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WALKS AND HOMES 
 
 OF 
 
 JESUS. 
 
 BY THE 
 
 REV. DANIEL MARCH, D.D. 
 
 /; 
 AUTHOR OF "NIGHT SCENES IN THE BIBLE." 
 
 ELEVENTH JTIOCJS'AS'D 
 
 ZEEGLER & McCURDY: 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, PA. ; CINCINNATI, 0.; ST. LOUIS, MO.; 
 SPRINGFIELD, MASS. 
 
15S 
 
 Entered according to the Act of Congress, In the year 1866, by 
 WM. L. HILDEBURN, TREASURES, 
 
 in trust far the 
 
 PRESBYTERIAN PUBLICATION COMMITTEE 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 
 
 WBSTCOTT & THOMSON, 
 Stereotypers. 
 
 JAS. B. RODGERS, 
 
 PRINTER, 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 N the composition of the following pages an at- 
 tempt has been made to look upon our Lord as 
 he was seen by the men of his time, and to 
 combine with that view the more mature and 
 instructed impressions which spring from faith in his re- 
 deeming work and his divine nature. Taking the Gospel rec- 
 ord for our guide, and keeping the present aspect of Pales- 
 -tine ever in mind, we have sought an introduction to the 
 HOMES where he dwelt ; we have ventured to join him 
 in his earthly WALKS. The natural features of the coun- 
 try and the known customs of the time have been wrought 
 into the sketches with some degree of freedom, in order to 
 set forth the human and historic reality of the divine Per- 
 sonage, whose abode with men is the greatest event in all 
 the past, and whose death on the cross for the world's salva- 
 tion, will continue to be the wonder of ages and of eternity. 
 The towns and cities, in which our Lord made his abode, 
 have indeed greatly changed with the lapse of time, and 
 some of them can scarcely be identified. But still, the 
 natural features of the country confirm the inspired record 
 beyond all question, and the sacred localities, so far as rec- 
 
 438947 
 
4 PEEFACE. 
 
 ognised, help us greatly in giving form and reality to our 
 faith in the great fact of the divine incarnation. We find 
 it easier to believe that the Son of God was seen on earth 
 in fashion as a man, when we gaze on the field where angels 
 announced his birth; when we visit the secluded vale 
 where he was hidden from the world for thirty years ; when 
 we climb the mount where he was seen in his glory ; when 
 we walk upon the silent shore of the sea of Galilee ; when 
 we descend the slope of Olivet and cross the Kidron, or 
 muse beneath the olive trees of Gethsemane. These " holy 
 places," however changed by time, or desecrated by super- 
 stition, still help us to see Jesus as he was in the world, 
 and so more fully to believe in the truths which he taught 
 and the work which he accomplished. 
 
 It has not been thought necessary or appropriate, in a 
 purely practical work, to assign reasons or authorities for . 
 a few assumptions that have been made, such as that Tabor 
 is the mount of the Transfiguration, Tell Hum the site 
 of Capernaum, the Horns of Hattin the scene of the Sermon 
 on the Mount, 
 
 The writer has found the task of visiting the Homes and 
 tracing the "Walks of Jesus with men, its own reward. He 
 would fain hope, that what has been written, may awaken 
 in some reader's heart, a desire for a closer Walk with 
 Jesus on earth, ai? d for a blessed Home with him forever 
 in heaven. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 BETHLEHEM 
 
 n. 
 
 NAZARETH- 
 
 m. 
 
 CAPERNAUM 67 
 
 IV. 
 
 BETHESDA 123 
 
 V. 
 
 TABOR 146 
 
 VI. 
 
 JERICHO... 176 
 
 vn. 
 
 BETHANY ~ 197 
 
 VIII. 
 
 JERUSALEM ., 293 
 
 1 5 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 1 THE FRIENDS OF JESUS. FRONTISPIECE. STEEL-PLATE-EiraBAvnra. 
 
 2 MODERN BETHLEHEM 13 
 
 3. WILDERNESS OF JUDEA. VIEW FROM THE MOUTH OF THE 
 
 CAVE OF ADULLAM, LOOKING EASTWARD TO THE MOUN- 
 TAINS OF MOAB BEYOND THE DEAD SEA F. Graham, Photo. 16 
 
 4. BETHLEHEM, WITH ROAD TO JERUSALEM IN FOREGROUND F. Graham, Photo. 24 
 
 5. THE BIRTH OF CHRIST W. L. Sheppard. 37 
 
 6. THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT W. L. Sheppard. 42 
 
 7. MODERN NAZARETH 48 
 
 8. VIEW FROM ABOVE NAZARETH, LOOKING SOUTHWARD Rev. S>. C. Malan. 54 
 
 9. THE SEA OF TIBERIAS Rev. S. C. Malan. 67 
 
 10. FISHERMEN OF THE SEA OF GALILEE Rev. & C. Malan. 75 
 
 11. PARALYTIC LET DOWN THROUGH THE ROOF FOR HEALING Beo. S. C. Malan. 96 
 
 12. CHRIST FEEDING THE FIVE THOUSAND W. L. Sheppard. 100 
 
 13. DISTANT VIEW OF THE LAKE OF GALILEE 107 
 
 14. FISHERMAN OF THE SEA OF GALILEE CASTING HIS NET... Rev. S. C. Malan. 120 
 
 15. THE HEALING AT THE POOL OF BETHESDA W. L. Sheppard. 129 
 
 16. MOUNT TABOR, SOUTH FACE .". 149 
 
 17. ANCIENT CASTLE ON THB ROAD FROM JERICHO TO JERUSALEM. Rev. H. S. Osborn. 175 
 
 18. SITE OF JERICHO, WITH THE ONLY REMAINING STONE BUILD- 
 
 ING ON THE RIGHT F. Graham, Photo. 190 
 
 19. HEALING THE BLIND MAN AT JERICHO W. L. SJieppard. 194 
 
 20. MODERN BETHANY 197 
 
 21. PASS IN THE ROAD FROM JERUSALEM TO JERICHO.'. Rev. S. C. Malan. 204 
 
 22. THE JORDAN NEAR JERICHO F. Graham, Photo. 236 
 
 23. BETHANY, FROM THE ROAD TO JERICHO, AND LOOKING TO- 
 
 WARD THE MOUNT OF OLIVES ON THE RIGHT F. Graham, Photo. 268 
 
 24. THE ENTRY TO JERUSALEM W. L. Sheppard. 296 
 
 25. VALLEY OF KEDRON AND MOUNT OF OLIVES 299 
 
 26. PATHWAY FROM BETHANY TO JERUSALEM, WITH THE GAR- 
 
 DEN OF GETHSEMANE AND NORTH-EAST CORNER OF THE 
 
 WALL OF JERUSALEM F. Graham, Photo. 306 
 
 27. OLIVE TREES IN GETHSEMANE F. Graham, Photo. 309 
 
BETHLEHEM. 
 
Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which 
 is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. 
 LUKE ii. 15. 
 
WALKS AND HOMES OF JESUS, 
 
 i. 
 
 BETHLEHEM. 
 
 HE one name, which makes Palestine 
 " The Holy Land" for all the world 
 and for all time, is JESUS. 
 The three places of surpassing interest in 
 the earthly life of Jesus, are Bethlehem, 
 Nazareth, Jerusalem. In all our studies of his 
 divine work and character, we feel ourselves 
 drawn with peculiar attraction to the manger 
 where he was born, to the home where he lived, 
 to the cross where he died. Over Bethlehem, 
 the star of hope dawned upon a darkened and 
 despairing world. At Nazareth, the divine 
 Life dwelt in the habitations of men. On Cal- 
 vary, the conflict with death was complete, and 
 the cross of shame was changed to the sceptre 
 of power and the throne of glory. The benig- 
 
lO ' ' WAtks AND HOMES. 
 
 nant heavens shed sweet influences, and the 
 angel host sung for joy, over the divine birth 
 at Bethlehem. The wondering heavens looked 
 down in silence, and the waiting angels hushed 
 their songs, while the divine Life walked unre- 
 cognized, side by side with peasants and car- 
 penters, for thirty years among the hills of 
 Nazareth. The witnessing heavens put on 
 sackcloth of astonishment, and the convulsed 
 earth was rent in agony, when the divine Suf- 
 ferer of Calvary cried, in darkness and desola- 
 tion of soul, as if God had forsaken him. 
 
 To Bethlehem, the first of these three " holy 
 places" in Palestine, our attention is drawn by 
 the opening scene in the Saviour's earthly life. 
 We may well desire to learn all we can of the 
 sacred spot which G-od had chosen to signalize 
 through all coming ages, by the incarnation of 
 his divine and eternal Son. We make pilgrim- 
 ages to the birth-place of patriots and heroes. 
 We build monuments to the mighty dead. We 
 trace out the source and the march of great 
 revolutions. We gaze with inspired enthusi- 
 asm upon the field where nations met in the 
 shock of arms. With a more profound and 
 
BETHLEHEM. 11 
 
 reverent interest may we study the place, the 
 time and the circumstances of the greatest 
 event in the world's history, the coming of the 
 Son of God to accomplish the world's redemp- 
 tion. 
 
 It is by the awful and infinite mystery of 
 the divine incarnation, that the deep chasm 
 between heaven and earth is bridged over, and 
 a way cast up, for angels to pass to and fro, on 
 messages of love. It is by the incarnation, 
 that the Holy One dwells in the habitations of 
 men, and children of wrath are made sons and 
 daughters of the Lord Almighty. When we 
 consider the frailty of this mortal state, the 
 infirmity that burdens our loftiest effort, the 
 dimness that clouds our clearest vision, the 
 sinfulness that paralyzes our noblest purposes, 
 the depravity that poisons the life blood of our 
 hearts, it seems almost too much for belief, that 
 the everlasting God should take upon himself 
 our flesh, and should bear the weight of our 
 infirmities, in sorrow and suffering, to the cross. 
 But upon this one truth hangs the redemption 
 of a lost world. There is no revelation of the 
 divine mercy too great for us to receive, when 
 
12 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 once we recognize in the babe of Bethlehem, 
 the mighty One, whose goings forth have been 
 from of old, even from everlasting. 
 
 Guided by such information as we can gather 
 from all sources, "let us now go even unto 
 Bethlehem," and see the place where the King 
 of glory appeared in the form of a servant, and 
 clothed in the garb of our frail mortality, 
 eighteen hundred years ago. 
 
 The town of Bethlehem is six miles to the 
 south of Jerusalem, a little to the east of the 
 main road to Hebron. The Syrian Mountains, 
 extending northward to Hermon and Lebanon, 
 and southward to the Arabian desert, lie upon 
 the whole face of Palestine, like some vast 
 centipede, with rocky arms of limestone hills 
 extending east and west, between narrow val- 
 leys and winding glens running down to the 
 Jordan and the Dead Sea on the one side, and 
 to the plains of Sharon and Carmel on the other. 
 On one of these ridges, extending only a mile 
 from the central chain, stands Bethlehem. It 
 is closed around on every side, save one, by 
 higher hills. To the south-east is Beth-hac- 
 cerem, on which the sign of fire was lifted up 
 
Modern Bethlehem. 
 
 Walks and Somes of Jesus. 
 
 Page 13. 
 
BETHLEHEM. 13 
 
 for the gathering of the tribes, when the trum- 
 pet of war was blown in Tekoa. South-east is 
 Gibeah of Judah, from whose rocky heights 
 the wild mountaineers looked down upon the 
 field of Ephesdammim, when Israel and the 
 Philistines put the battle in array, army against 
 army, and the shepherd boy of Bethlehem, 
 slew the giant warrior of Gath. North-east, 
 cutting off the view of Jerusalem and the 
 Mount of Olives, is the rocky crest and castel- 
 lated convent of Mar Elias, from whose time- 
 worn towers the traveller looks down into the 
 gorge of the Jordan, and along the melancholy 
 shores of the Dead Sea. 
 
 Entering the gate of Bethlehem at the west, 
 we climb the same ascent up which Joseph anc 1 
 Mary toiled, weary and belated, on that memo- 
 rable night, which has been made an era for all 
 subsequent ages, and the source of new hopes 
 and a new history, for all mankind. Eighteen 
 centuries have wrought but little change upon 
 the stone-built town and the strife-loving peo- 
 ple. The arched gateway of the wall ; the 
 narrow, uneven, broken foot-path of the main 
 street, difficult to travel by day and dangerous 
 
14 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 by -night; the white tomb-likp stone houses, 
 presenting a windowless wall to the street, 
 scattered irregularly for a mile's length along 
 the ridge of the hill, and sometimes so near 
 each other as to touch and cover the traveller 
 with their projecting balconies ; the still nar- 
 rower lanes and alleys, running off right and 
 left, and opening a pathway to still gloomier 
 stone huts, and stables, and caves in the rock, 
 all equally the homes of man and beast; these 
 are to-day, substantially the same that they 
 were, on that night, when the weary strangers 
 from Nazareth groped their way through the 
 whole length of the dark, crooked and stony 
 street, to the khan at the eastern extremity 
 there at last to find lodgings with the beasts of 
 the stall. 
 
 Standing upon the walls of Bethlehem, or 
 upon the domed roof of one of its limestone 
 houses, we see the same landscape that was 
 seen by Mary and Joseph, David and Samuel, 
 Ruth and Naomi, RacheL and Jacob. On the 
 north, east and south, the cultivated slopes of 
 the hill descend to the plain in terraces, with 
 as much regularity as the galleries o f an 
 
BETHLEHEM. 15 
 
 amphitheatre. In the early spring, vines 
 hang in gay festoons from bank to bank. The 
 wide, branching fig fences the garden plots 
 with its living wall of dark green foliage. 
 The silvery leaves of the olive glisten in cas- 
 cades of evergreen, from terrace to terrace. 
 The grapes of Bethlehem are noted for their 
 strong, aromatic flavor, and the whole air is 
 perfumed with the smell of the vintage.- The 
 figs that ripen on the Southern slopes of the 
 hill are remembered by travellers as they re- 
 member the wells of the desert and the waters 
 of the Nile. In the valley below the town, and 
 on the narrow plain beyond, there are fields of 
 wheat and barley, where, in the month of 
 April, the reapers may be seen, followed by 
 the gleaners, just as Ruth gleaned after the 
 young men of Boaz in the same field, thirty - 
 one hundred and seventy-five years ago. 
 
 The green terraces and the little narrow val- 
 leys of cultivated ground around Bethlehem, 
 are made more refreshing to the eye by con- 
 trast with the wilderness of Judah in full sight 
 beyond. The view in that direction is bounded 
 . by hills of white limestone, thrown con- 
 
16 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 fusedly together, like waves when the winds 
 suddenly change and seas cross each other in 
 wild discord. The hills are cloven by narrow 
 waterless ravines, and the mouths of many cav- 
 erns open upon their steep sides, and farther 
 away the glens contract into wild, deep gorges, 
 or slope off with a rapid descent to the dismal 
 shores of the Dead Sea. Not a solitary tree, 
 nor a spot of green earth can be seen along the 
 whole outline of scorched and blasted hills and 
 robber-haunted glens which bound the view 
 toward the wilderness of Judah and the moun- 
 tains of Moab. Standing upon the ridge of 
 Bethlehem and looking in that direction, one 
 seems to have landed upon an island of green 
 in an ocean of desolation. 
 
 The birth of Jesus is the great event which 
 gives sacredness and importance to this little 
 town, perched upon a hill-top and pushed aside 
 from the march of armies and the merchandise 
 of nations. And yet Bethlehem itself had a 
 history before the world's Redeemer took ref- 
 uge in its humble stall. Before the Hebrews 
 were a people, before Jerusalem had its name, 
 Jacob came back from his long exile in Padan- 
 
The Wilderness of Judea from the mouth of the Cave of Adullam, looking eastward, 
 to the mountains of Moab beyond the Dead Sea. 
 
 Walkt and Hornet of Jew*. Page 16. 
 
BETHLEHEM. 17 
 
 aram, journeying toward Hebron. The train 
 of his servants and camels and sheep and 
 goats was a great host ; and they came lei- 
 surely along the rough and winding road from 
 the north, filling the whole valley with their 
 multitude. 
 
 When within a mile of Bethlehem, just as 
 the camels came down from the steep, stony 
 track of the road into the green valley, Rachel, 
 the younger and the most beloved of the 
 Patriarch's wives, fainted with the pangs of 
 travail, and as she lay in agony by the road- 
 side, and her soul was departing, she named 
 her new-born child, Benoni, " son of my sor- 
 row." More than forty years afterward, when 
 Jacob himself was old and blind and dying, he 
 commemorated in his last words the place and 
 the bitter agony which took from him his 
 beloved Rachel and gave him Benjamin by the 
 road-side in sight of the hill of Bethlehem. 
 
 And the birth of that " son of sorrow" was 
 undoubtedly appointed at that place in the 
 midst of a household journey, and it was re- 
 corded by the pen of inspiration to point for- 
 ward seventeen hundred years, down the line 
 
 2 
 
18 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 of history, to a greater and more mysterious 
 agony, when the Son of God should become a 
 "man of sorrows," and take on himself the 
 sins and afflictions of a lost world. 
 
 Some four hundred years after the death of 
 Rachel, in the month of April, in the time of 
 the barley harvest, two lonely women, mother 
 and daughter, appeared, hungry and homeless 
 and afflicted, in the narrow street of Bethle- 
 hem. They had come all the way from beyond 
 the Dead Sea, across the mouth of the Jordan, 
 up through the lonely paths of the wilderness, 
 and the wild glens among the mountains of 
 Judah. Their friendless condition excited the 
 commiseration of the whole town. But the 
 mother was proud and unhappy, and she 
 resented all offers of sympathy or help. When 
 the curious villagers asked in kindness who 
 she was, she said they might call her anything 
 that meant wretc? edness and misery ; for " the 
 Almighty had dealt very bitterly with her." 
 
 But the daughter was gentle and affection- 
 ate, and ready to do anything to save herself 
 and her proud-spirited old mother from starv- 
 ing. She even begged to be permitted to go 
 
BETHLEHEM. 19 
 
 down into the barley-field below the town, and 
 glean after the reapers. It is hard for the 
 stoutest heart to hold out against hunger ; and 
 so the unhappy mother let the daughter go, 
 staying behind herself, to brood over her pride 
 and misery in some wretched stone cabin of 
 the town. The daughter went with more 
 willingness to her humble toil, stooping 
 through the hot stubble all day, gathering the 
 bearded heads of barley with her bare hand, 
 at night sitting down by the road-side to beat 
 out the kernels with a stick, and carrying 
 home a few handfuls of dry grain to pound 
 with a stone and bake in the ashes, and so 
 keep herself and her poor old mother alive. 
 
 And it was because that affectionate daugh- 
 ter performed such menial work with the grace 
 of cheerfulness and simplicity, that she drew 
 the attention of the lord of the field. And 
 hence the name of Ruth stands in sacred his- 
 tory, as the mother of a line of kings, and the 
 Son of God, himself was descended in his 
 humanity from a homeless exile, who saved 
 herself and her mother from starving, by 
 
20 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 gleaning barley all day in the hot field beneath 
 the hill of Bethlehem. 
 
 Four generations after Ruth, there was a day 
 when an old man with a white beard and a 
 mournful look, came up the hill leaning on his 
 prophet's staff, and entered the western gate 
 of Bethlehem. When the elders of the town 
 saw him, they trembled at his presence, for 
 they knew that the word of the Lord came by 
 his mouth, and wherever he appeared men 
 were afraid that he had come to call their sins 
 to remembrance. But he soon quieted the 
 fears of the elders of Bethlehem by assuring 
 them that at this time his errand was peace. 
 
 There was an old man in the village who 
 had eight sons, seven of them full grown, 
 giants in strength and in stature, mighty men 
 of valor. Between them and their younger 
 brother, there was an interval of many years. 
 He was a boy, more youthful in appearance 
 than in age ; of fair complexion and beautiful 
 features and goodly to look upon. The rude 
 and stalwart brothers despised the boy for his 
 youth and his beauty, and they treated him as 
 if he were a slave or a girl, They set him 
 
BETHLEHEM. 21 
 
 to watch sheep and to follow the goats, as they 
 climbed the ridges and wandered through the 
 narrow valleys to the east of the town. 
 
 But the beautiful and fair-haired boy made 
 good use of his shepherd life, in learning les- 
 sons suited to the people and the time. He 
 became familiar with all the glens and ridges 
 and high places of the wild country, from 
 Bethlehem eastward down to the cave of A dul- 
 lam and the passes of Engedi. He learned 
 to bear hunger and heat and cold and fatigue, 
 day and night, until he became indifferent to 
 all extremes of temperature and all forms of 
 danger. He could scale heights where the 
 eagle must be bold to build her nest, and he 
 could walk on the edge of the cliff, where the 
 wild goats feared to climb. He could, make his 
 meal of parched corn, and drink of the moun- 
 tain spring, and sleep at night with the heavens 
 for a covering and the rock for a bed. He 
 would attack the lion and the bear single- 
 handed, and deliver the lambs of his flock from 
 the fiercest of the beasts of prey. The roving- 
 Arab could not surprise him in the field or the 
 fold, and the daring robber from the desert, 
 
22 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 learned to avoid an encounter with such a 
 keeper. 
 
 He became familiar with mountains and 
 winds and clouds ; with pathless solitudes, and 
 sounding storms, and starry nights. He taught 
 his fingers to play upon the harp, and he made 
 the waste places of the wilderness vocal with 
 psalms of praise. He wove the glories of the 
 sunset, and the fires of the firmament, and the 
 shadows of the forest, and the lightnings of 
 the tempest, and the voices of the deep, into 
 songs that shall be sung through all coming 
 time. 
 
 And now when Samuel the prophet called 
 Jesse's sons to pass before him, that he might 
 anoint the noblest, king over Israel, the seven 
 stalwart men were rejected, and this forgotten 
 boy was sent for to come in from the sheep- 
 walks in the wilderness, and on him the conse- 
 crating oil was poured, in the name of the 
 Lord, in the midst of his brethren. And so 
 when the divine Son of David was born in 
 Bethlehem, a thousand years afterward, he 
 came, in the line of descent, from one who kept 
 sheep on the neighboring hills, and wandered 
 
BETHLEHEM. 23 
 
 a fugitive and an outlaw, among the caves and 
 glens of the wilderness beyond. 
 
 When David, in his old age, was driven from 
 his throne and from Jerusalem, by the unnat- 
 ural rebellion of his son Absalom, he took 
 refuge among the mountains of Gilead, to the 
 east of the Jordan. An old chief among the 
 mountain tribes, Barzillai by name, greatly 
 befriended the fugitive king and his followers, 
 by bringing them wheat and barley, and flour, 
 and parched corn, and sheep, and honey, and 
 mats for covering by night. When Absalom 
 was slain, and David returned to Jerusalem, he 
 took with him Chimham, the son of old Bar- 
 zillai, and treated him like a child at his own 
 table; and subsequently gave him his own 
 house, which he had inherited from his father 
 Jesse, at Bethlehem. And when David was 
 dying, in his last words, he charged Solomon, 
 his son and successor, to be kind to Chimham, 
 and to ensure to him the possession of the 
 house in Bethlehem, where Ruth lived and 
 David himself was born. 
 
 Four hundred and thirty years afterwards, 
 in the days of Jeremiah the prophet, when 
 
24 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 Jerusalem was in ruins, and the tribes of Israel 
 had been carried captive to Babylon, the strong 
 stone-built house, given by king David to the 
 son of his benefactor, was still standing in 
 Bethlehem, and it was still called the house of 
 Chimham. It had then become the khan, or 
 public house of the village. Jeremiah himself 
 took refuge within its walls, when his friend 
 and protector Gedaliah, the deputy governor 
 appointed by the king of Babylon, had been 
 treacherously slain at Mizpeh, a few miles 
 north of Jerusalem. 
 
 At that time, a great company of fugitives, 
 also fearing the wrath of Nebuchadnezzar for 
 the murder of his governor, came down from 
 Gibeon and filled the whole house of Chimham, 
 and encamped upon the slopes of the hill and 
 in the open spaces of the town. Jeremiah, 
 speaking by the word of the Lord, warned 
 them to go back to their homes and fear 
 nothing. But they disobeyed and passed on 
 in the other direction into Egypt, taking the 
 prophet himself with them, and there they all 
 died. 
 
 Five hundred and eighty years pass, and 
 
BETHLEHEM. 26 
 
 light breaks again upon the house of Chiin- 
 ham, the khan of Bethlehem where Ruth 
 lived and David was born, and Jeremiah 
 received the word of the Lord. It is still the 
 public caravanserai of the town, and two 
 weary travelers from the hills of Nazareth 
 come at a late hour, through the whole length 
 of the straggling street, to the eastern extrem- 
 ity of the town, to seek rest and shelter for the 
 night in this ancient and historic abode on the 
 brow of the hill. 
 
 The open area within the walls is all cov- 
 ered with men, women and children ; horses, 
 asses and camels, sleeping promiscuously to- 
 gether upon the stone floor. The narrow, 
 doorless, unfurnished stalls or sleeping cham- 
 bers in the walls, opening under arches upon a 
 raised piazza round three sides of the area, are 
 all full. The late travelers are obliged to seek 
 shelter outside of the inner wall of the car- 
 avanserai, beneath archways extending back 
 under the projecting and cavernous rocks of 
 the hill-side, and used only for the protection 
 of servants, muleteers and animals in bad 
 weather. " There is no room " for these be- 
 
26 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 nigh ted late comers " in the inn." The sides 
 of this outer enclosure are fitted up with 
 mangers built into the walls, with small 
 stones and mortar, and shaped like a kneading 
 trough. 
 
 In such a dismal, stony, unfurnished, win- 
 dowless, doorless cell was the Redeemer of the 
 world born. In such a rude, stone-built 
 manger was the babe lying when the shep- 
 herds, watching their flocks in the fields below 
 the town, heard the angel voice, saying, " Be- 
 hold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, 
 which shall be unto all people. For unto you 
 is born this day, in the city of David, a Sa- 
 viour, which is Christ, the Lord." 
 
 And the joy was too great for a single mes- 
 senger to bring from heaven to earth. For 
 suddenly the whole plain seemed to have 
 become camping ground for the angelic host, 
 and a multitude of voices broke forth in the 
 song which all the nations shall yet learn to 
 sing " Glory to God in the highest, and on 
 earth peace, good- will to men." And when 
 the angels ceased and departed, the shepherds 
 ran with haste, climbed up the hill-side among 
 
BETHLEHEM. 27 
 
 terraced gardens and evergreen olives and 
 came to the stable of- the inn, and found, as 
 the angel had said, u the babe lying in a 
 manger." 
 
 Thenceforth the house of David on the brow 
 of that hill, is consecrated in all Christian 
 memories forevermore. Fruitful, vine-clad 
 Bethlehem, which signifies "the house of 
 bread," becomes the representative of that 
 living Bread which came down from heaven, 
 of which, if a man partake, he shall never 
 die. Contentious, war-loving Bethlehem sends 
 forth a song of peace which shall be sung in 
 all the languages of men, and shall resound 
 through all the ages of time. Royal, king- 
 nursing Bethlehem, becomes the birth-place 
 of a Prince whose glory shall fill the earth, 
 and whose dominion shall endure throughout 
 all generations. Proud, beautiful Bethlehem, 
 nestled among hills and smiling on the desert, 
 sends forth a message of mercy, to comfort all 
 that mourn, to lift up all that are cast down 
 and to gladden all the waste places of the 
 earth. 
 
 The story of Bethlehem loses nothing of its 
 
28 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 meaning or its power with the progress of time. 
 It never meant so much in the minds of men 
 as it does now, and it will hold a higher place 
 in human history, when it is thirty-six centuries 
 old, than it does now, when it is eighteen. 
 
 It is impossible for us to describe, or to im- 
 agine, the depths of humiliation to which the 
 Son of God subjected himself, in accomplishing 
 the work of our redemption. We may call to 
 our aid the utmost resources of reason and im- 
 agination, supposition and argument, and yet 
 we shall fail to measure the distance between 
 the throne of heaven and the manger of Beth- 
 lehem. And yet it becomes us to avail our- 
 selves of every expedient and suggestion, which 
 may help us to dwell on the mighty theme, till 
 our minds are lost in wonder, love and adora- 
 tion. To this end indulge a single supposition. 
 
 Suppose it to have been told in heaven that 
 the fulness of the prophetic times had come, 
 the great expiation for man's sin was about to 
 be made, the Son of God had already appeared 
 incarnate on earth; and some ministering angel, 
 just returned from a mission of love to some 
 far distant world, hastens down to be present 
 
BETHLEHEM. 29 
 
 at the sacrifice. He has seen the glory which 
 the eternal Son had with the Father before the 
 world was. He has bowed with veiled face in 
 the presence of the unapproachable Light. He 
 naturally supposes that the Lord of angels and 
 the Son of the Highest, will be attended with 
 a retinue commensurate with the dignity of 
 his divine nature, even when offering himself 
 to bear an infinite weight of suffering for man's 
 sin. He is prepared to witness the assemblage 
 of all nations, at some great imperial capital. 
 He expects nothing less than that the divine 
 Messiah will be surrounded by legions of an- 
 gels, and that he will receive the visible homage 
 of cherub and of burning seraphim, in the 
 very moment of his mysterious agony, that the 
 world may believe in his greatness when be- 
 holding his glory. 
 
 With such expectations, the inquiring angel 
 approaches our earth. But he sees it illumined 
 with no unusual light. He hears no sounds of 
 exultant joy from the race whom the Son of 
 God had come to save. He has learned some- 
 thing of a chosen people ; of a city where 
 Jehovah had placed his name; of a temple 
 
30 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 which had been hallowed for ages by awful 
 symbols of the divine presence. He directs 
 his flight to Jerusalem ; hovers in mid-air over 
 the mount of Zion. But he sees no signs of 
 the august ceremony there. 
 
 The proud priests are offering polluted sac- 
 rifice in the temple. The prouder Pharisees 
 are addressing the multitude, in the courts of 
 the Lord's house and at the corners of the 
 streets, vociferating long prayers, displaying 
 the precepts of the law and the traditions of 
 the elders inwoven upon their garments, and 
 worn in phylacteries upon their foreheads. The 
 armor of the Roman soldier clanks at every 
 gate, upon every tower and wall. The inquir- 
 ing angel sees no evidence of the Redeemer's 
 presence, in the city, where the daily sacrifice 
 for a thousand years had promised his coming 
 and typified his death. 
 
 Could it be that the Son of God, to draw the 
 attention of all nations, had chosen to make 
 his advent at the capital of the world's great 
 empire ? Alas ! the imperial city on the banks 
 of the Tiber, is in no mood to welcome the 
 Redeemer of mankind. From the marble seats 
 
BETHLEHEM. 31 
 
 of the amphitheatre, a hundred thousand spec- 
 tators look down with eager and savage joy 
 upon human combatants cutting each other to 
 pieces, "to make a Roman holiday." When 
 one falls beneath the more dexterous sword of 
 his antagonist, and his life blood stains the 
 trampled sand of the arena, the acclamation 
 from the crowded galleries, rises loud as the 
 shout of nations, hoarse and horrible as the 
 roar of the deep in storms. 
 
 In another quarter, the congregated wisdom 
 of the Roman Senate is voting divine honors 
 to the cruel and beastly despot, who has grati- 
 fied the passions of the populace, with such 
 murderous amusement. Surely, in such a city, 
 the heavenly visitant finds little evidence of a 
 disposition to rejoice at the coming of the 
 Prince of peace. 
 
 Nor would he find a better preparation for 
 the promised Messiah^ should he turn to 
 Athens, " the eye of Greece," the fountain of 
 learning and philosophy, the home of the arts, 
 the haunt of the muses. The Greeks are too 
 busy with the fables of false gods, to welcome 
 a new revelation from the only wise and true. 
 
32 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 And the great capitals of ancient empire, 
 Thebes, Babylon, Nineveh, had been levelled 
 with the dust long before, by the judgments 
 of heaven executed upon their crimes. The 
 bird of night, and the beast of prey, had found 
 a home, amid the desolate palaces of Egypt's 
 kings, and the fallen temples of Assyrian gods. 
 
 Wearied with the fruitless search for the 
 scene of the divine incarnation, the inquiring 
 angel begins to suspect that he has mistaken 
 the world, in which the great expiation was 
 about to be made. Shocked and terrified by the 
 universal prevalence and bpundless excesses of 
 misery and crime, he begins to fear that he has 
 alighted upon the region of the outcast and 
 accursed. He is just about to wing his way 
 back, when suddenly he sees, almost beneath 
 him, to the south of Jerusalem, the whole air 
 ablaze with gathering myriads of the heavenly 
 host. He hears the chorus of blest voices, 
 proclaiming the tidings that Christ is born in 
 the city of David, and that his earthly abode 
 is with the beasts of the stall. 
 
 And there indeed was the Son of God, the 
 Redeemer of the world, in all outward appear- 
 
BETHLEHEM. 33 
 
 ance as frail and helpless as the creatures whom 
 he was born to save. If angels ministered 
 unto him, they were not permitted to display 
 their glory before the eyes of men ; they must 
 not sing his praise in songs that could be heard 
 by ears of flesh and blood. If the swift mes- 
 sengers of the skies bore the tidings of his 
 birth with joy to the courts of heaven, no such 
 intelligence was announced in the palaces of 
 earthly monarchs ; shepherds were told of the 
 coming of the King of glory, while princes and 
 philosophers knew it not. 
 
 The proud Pharisee, with hypocritical devo- 
 tion, courting the homage of the superstitious 
 rabble in the streets of Jerusalem ; the learned 
 Rabbi, expounding the law in the schools of 
 the prophets, knew nothing of the Babe in the 
 manger of Bethlehem. Their Messiah was to 
 be an earthly prince, who should reign on the 
 throne of David and crush the heathen with 
 his conquering arm, not the despised Nazarene 
 who should suffer and die. The great and 
 mighty of the earth, who were devising 
 schemes to perpetuate their own dominion to 
 the latest posterity, made no account of that 
 
34 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 Prince whose throne should be set up in mil- 
 lions of hearts, and whose kingdom should en- 
 dure forever and ever. 
 
 And who could have supposed that the 
 King of glory would stoop so low? Who 
 could have thought that the divine nature 
 would shroud itself in the frail form of a 
 child, whose lowly bed was made in a manger ? 
 Who would dare say that angelg might bow 
 down and worship before that babe, without 
 forfeiting their allegiance to the King of hea- 
 ven ? What prophet would have been believed 
 in Bethlehem, if he had said of the son of Mary, 
 " He shall feed the destitute by thousands, yet 
 himself suffer the pangs of hunger; he shall sup- 
 ply consolation for the most afflicted, yet him- 
 self become preeminently the Man of sorrows ; 
 he shall be holy, harmless, undefiled, separate 
 from sin, yet on him shall be laid the iniquities 
 of us all ; he shall still the tempest with a 
 word, yet himself want protection from heat 
 arid cold ; he shall give rest to the weary and 
 heavy-laden, yet himself not have where to 
 lay his head ; he shall heal the sick with the 
 touch of nis hand, yet himself be as sensitive 
 
BETHLEHEM. 35 
 
 to bodily pain as they ; he shall cast out dev- 
 ils, yet himself be assailed by the temptations 
 of Satan ; he shall raise the dead by his own 
 power, yet himself suffer the pangs of death." 
 He might, indeed, have astonished the 
 world by a display of his real person, clothed 
 in the splendors with which he shone in the 
 highest heaven. He might have revealed 
 himself at the very first in flaming fire, at- 
 tended by ten thousand thousand of his minis- 
 tering spirits. He might have descended 
 from above upon Mount Zion, with the trump 
 of the archangel to herald his coming, and the 
 wing of cherubim to waft his flying throne. 
 But he made himself of no reputation, and 
 took upon him the form of a servant, and it is 
 only because he submitted to such humiliation, 
 that we have the hope of glory and immortal- 
 
 ity- 
 
 And shall not this wonderful story of Beth- 
 lehem teach us to pour contempt dn all our 
 human pride ? The Son of God consents to 
 be a stranger. And shall men complain that 
 they are unappreciated or unknown ? The 
 King of glory takes the form of a servant, 
 
36 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 
 and shall men complain that their condition is 
 lowly and their honors few ? The strength of 
 omnipotence clothed itself with the feebleness 
 of a child ; the hand that spread out the hea- 
 vens and laid the foundation of the earth, ap- 
 peared as the hand of a babe needing to be 
 led, waiting to be lifted up. And shall any 
 humiliation seem to us too deep, if in our 
 lowly estate we can have the sympathy and 
 companionship of One who made the worlds 
 and holds the stars in his right hand? 
 
 The story of Bethlehem shows us how deep 
 is the divine sympathy with us in all the 
 walks of life. In illustrating this first page 
 of gospel history, we must speak of humble 
 homes, and comfortless houses, and weary jour- 
 neys, and laborious occupations, and meagre 
 living, and rude garments, and cheerless apart- 
 ments, and jostlings with strangers and lodging 
 with cattle. And in all these places and expe- 
 riences, the divine Life dwells with men. 
 They are all embraced and sanctified in the 
 earthly history of the incarnate Son of God 
 that we may learn to cherish the holiest 
 purposes in the humblest occupations, that we 
 
BETHLEHEM. 
 
 37 
 
 may make all the trials and toils and experi- 
 ences of life, the means of bringing us into 
 higher communion with our Maker. 
 
 Barns and brute cattle should be dedicated 
 to God, since Jesus was laid in a manger. 
 Poor, hard-working laborers may be the es- 
 pecial favorites of heaven, since angels bore 
 
38 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 the best tidings that ever came to this world, 
 first to shepherds. Hotels and taverns may 
 be made holy places, since wise men of the 
 East found the Saviour of the world in a cara- 
 vanserai. The most unwelcome exactions may 
 bring us blessings, since it was in consequence 
 of the edict of the taxgatherer, that Bethlehem 
 became the birthplace of Christ. All the 
 beautiful things of art, and all the precious 
 things of wealth, and all the sacred things of 
 affection may be dedicated to Christ, since gold 
 and frankincense and myrrh were offered to 
 the infant Saviour, even before his glory was 
 manifested before the world. The Son of God 
 in his humiliation passed through all the 
 depths and necessities of our lowly estate that 
 he might sanctify all departments of human 
 life and teach us to live for God in them all. 
 
 The story rf Bethlehem is one of great joy 
 to all people. It is joy to the poor; for Christ 
 comes to make them heirs of the kingdom of 
 God. It is joy to the rich ; for Christ comes to 
 teach them how to use all their earthly posses- 
 sions, so as to lay up for themselves imperish- 
 able riches in heaven. It is joy to the igno- 
 
BETHLEHEM. 39 
 
 rant; for Christ comes to make them wise 
 unto eternal salvation. It is joy to the learned ; 
 for Christ comes to unfold mysteries that have 
 been kept secret from the foundation of the 
 world. It is joy to the mourning and the com- 
 fortless ; for Christ comes to heal all sorrow, 
 and to bind up every broken heart. It is joy 
 to the guilty, the condemned and the despair- 
 ing ; for Christ comes to take away transgres- 
 sion, to bear the sins of many and to give him- 
 self a ransom for the world. The wave of 
 joy, flowing forth from the angel-song of 
 Bethlehem, is wide enough to encompass the 
 earth, and rich enough to bless every human 
 soul, and deep enough to flow on through all 
 coming time. 
 
 The story of Bethlehem is worthy to be re- 
 ceived with faith, and gratitude, and joy by 
 every heart. All the events of past history 
 taken together, are of less consequence to us, 
 than the single fact that the Son of God became 
 incarnate, suffered and died for our salvation. 
 All the researches of science, all the reasonings 
 of philosophy, all the inventions of genius, 
 have not poured so much light upon the world 
 
40 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 as the star that led to the place where Christ 
 was born. The highest and longest enjoyment 
 of health, the acquisition of millions of money, 
 success in all worldly enterprises, were nothing 
 like so great an occasion for gratitude and joy 
 as is given us all by the knowledge of the 
 glory of God as it shines in the face of Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 Oh ! when shall earth's uncounted millions 
 join the angel host in singing for joy that 
 Christ was born in Bethlehem ? When shall 
 all for whom the Saviour died, accept with 
 grateful faith, this awful and merciful mys- 
 tery of the divine incarnation, as 'the greatest 
 event in the history of time When shall the 
 one song of "Peace on earth, and glory in the 
 Highest," employ all nations? 
 
 "The dwellers in the Vales and on the rocks 
 Shout to each other r and the mountain tops 
 From distant mountains catch the flying joy ; 
 Till nation after nation taught the strain, 
 Earth rolls the rapturous hosanna round?" 
 
 The song of angels, which proclaimed the 
 coining of the Son of God on earth, had 
 
BETHLEHEM. 41 
 
 scarcely ceased upon the plain of Bethlehem, 1 
 when the wrath of man broke forth for the de- 
 feat of the purposed mercy, and the destruction 
 of the infant Saviour. The Babe, whose birth 
 was an occasion of joy to the heavenly host, 
 soon became the subject of suspicion and rage 
 to the rulers of the earth. Out of the city of 
 David, out of the Land of Promise, beyond 
 the realm of kings who reigned in his own Je- 
 rusalem, beyond the reach of priests who min- 
 istered in his own temple of Zion, must the 
 infant Messiah be borne, or the earth would 
 lose its Saviour, and the stream of salvation 
 be dried at the fountain. 
 
 He who came to be the Light of the world, 
 must be carried away by night and hidden 
 from the world in the land of darkness. The 
 divine Deliverer of Israel, and of the nations, 
 must go down to Egypt and dwell in the house 
 of bondage, before he can be permitted to pro- 
 claim liberty to the captives, and the opening 
 of the prison to them that are bound. 
 
 Of that long and lonely pilgrimage, which 
 began by night at Bethlehem, and continued 
 for many days over the waste of Arabian des- 
 
 4 * 
 
42 
 
 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 erts, and ended in the deeper night and worse 
 desolation of exile in Egypt, we know nothing. 
 But it is much to know that the holy child Je- 
 sus was a fugitive for his life in his infancy, 
 and that the divine Saviour, when his glory 
 was fully manifested before the world, was cru- 
 cified in his death. 
 
NAZARETH. 
 
He came to Nazareth where he had been brought up.- LUKE 
 iv. 16. 
 
II. 
 
 NAZARETH. 
 
 FTER the wondrous birth in Bethle- 
 hem, and the hurried flight into 
 Egypt, the strange story of the divine 
 incarnation returns to the secluded spot where 
 it began, among the hills of Galilee. The Son 
 of God has appeared upon the great mission 
 of redemption, announced as king and Messiah 
 by a multitude of the heavenly host, and yet he 
 must be hidden from the world thirty years 
 before he makes himself known. For so long 
 a time he must live by toil, in dependence and 
 obscurity, as if he were the least of the sons 
 of men. For a whole generation he must shut 
 the great secret of his work and character 
 in his own heart, teaching first the long, hard 
 lesson of silence, and patience, and waiting, 
 that he may be heard the more gladly by the 
 poor and the "common people," when he 
 speaks. 
 
 45 
 
46 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 In regard to the precise manner in which 
 Jesus spent the years of man's life, from child- 
 hood to mature age, the sacred writers main 
 tain the most profound and solemn reserve. 
 The irreverent and inquisitive spirit of later 
 times, has endeavored to lift the awful veil 
 with which inspiration covers the home and 
 the occupations of the child and the man Jesus 
 before his manifestation to the world. But all 
 such attempts have only served to impress us 
 more fully with the wisdom of the divine pur- 
 pose, which has shrouded this early period in 
 the life of the incarnate Son of Grod in impen- 
 etrable mystery. Mercy has communicated 
 all that can help our faith, and wisdom has 
 withholden what would only supply materials 
 for the employment of a profane and profitless 
 curiosity. 
 
 Nevertheless we are told the place where 
 Jesus was " brought up," the obscure mountain 
 village where the Saviour of the world was 
 hidden from the eyes of men for so many 
 years. And it is becoming in us to manifest a 
 profound interest in the secluded spot where 
 the divine " Child grew and waxed strong in 
 
NAZARETH. 47 
 
 spirit, and increased in wisdom and stature, 
 and in favor with God and man." From that 
 humble home in Nazareth there has gone forth 
 a power which has already encompassed the 
 earth, and is destined to sway the sceptre of 
 supreme command over all nations, 
 
 Nazareth was written upon the cross in the 
 three great languages which gave law, art and 
 religion to the world ; ancf the name shall be 
 associated with everything that rules, refines 
 and consecrates the human race, long as faith 
 finds a home on the earth, long as Christ has a 
 kingdom in the hearts of men. 
 
 The despised name of the place and the peo- 
 ple has been ascribed to the greatest achieve- 
 ments and possessions of man, and it is still 
 borne and accepted by Him, who sits upon the 
 throne of heaven. Such a village, however 
 small and remote and despised, may well 
 awaken our most rational and devout curiosity. 
 
 The double range of Lebanon diminishes in 
 height, and divides into waving ridges or 
 rounded hills, as it approaches the great plain 
 of Esdraelon. Here and there, the mountain 
 mass separates for a little space on the surface. 
 
48 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 and then unites and flows on as the water of a 
 swift-running stream, divided by a jutting rock, 
 unites again at a little distance below the ob- 
 stacle, and then flows on at its former level, 
 leaving a hollow space between the point of 
 separation and of union. In such a narrow. 
 
 depressed valley, a mile long and hign up 
 above the plain, and walled in by still higher 
 hills stands the little town whose existence was 
 not known in history till it became the home 
 of Jesus, but whose name has now been 
 carried to the ends of the earth. 
 
NAZARETH. 49 
 
 The road to Jerusalem which the Holy Fam- 
 ily traveled every year going and returning, 
 climbs up from the plain over a long, steep 
 staircase of rocky ledges and loosened stones, 
 where the sure-footed Syrian horses fear to 
 climb, and the bravest riders feel safer on their 
 feet. Having attained a ridge half as high as 
 Tabor, the rugged path descends into a se- 
 cluded and peaceful vale, on the south-western 
 side of which stands Nazareth. 
 
 The name was thought to signify " place of 
 flowers." And the name was well chosen, 
 whether the meaning referred to the millions 
 of flowers strewn through the valley, or to the 
 appearance of the little white town itself, resting 
 in the cup of the one colossal flower, of which 
 the fifteen encompassing hills are the green 
 petals to enhance its beauty and to protect it 
 from danger. The soil of the enclosed basin 
 is fertile and well cultivated. Gardens and 
 corn-fields, green hedges and barren foot-paths, 
 clusters of orange and pomegranate, olive and 
 fig-trees diversify the plain and adorn the hill- 
 sides. The white rocks and gray, bare ledges 
 that stand out here and there upon the slopes 
 
50 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 and upper ridges of the hills, afford a pleasing 
 and impressive contrast with the green hollows 
 and cultivated grounds below. Walled in and 
 sheltered on every side from blighting winds 
 and sudden changes, the valley enjoys a mild 
 and equable climate, and brings forth fruit and 
 grain, the first and best of the country and the 
 season. 
 
 The traveler who crosses the great battle plain 
 of Esdraelon, reviving its memories of blood 
 as he rides for hours through a waving sea of 
 verdure, and then climbs the steep and rocky 
 defile to the edge of the basin of Nazareth, 
 and looks down through thickets of vines and 
 groves of fig and olive trees, upon the quiet 
 town and the cultivated gardens, feels, for the 
 moment, that he has alighted upon a " happy 
 valley," where the pride and conflict of the 
 world can never come. He imagines the peace- 
 ful inhabitants of this secluded vale climbing 
 the natural rampart with which they are sur- 
 rounded, and looking forth with horror on plun- 
 dered fields and burning towns, and slaughtered 
 people around Tabor and Grilboa and Megiddo, 
 and rejoicing that the wasteful passions which 
 
NAZARETH. 51 
 
 make man a wolf to man have never been 
 kindled in their quiet homes. He thinks that 
 here at last, out of the track of great armies, 
 afar from the vices and corruptions of great 
 cities in happy ignorance of the pomp and 
 pride of the great world, truth may speak 
 upon every lip, virtue adorn every home, 
 peace dwell in every heart. 
 
 Alas ! that the first page in the history of 
 this mountain village, and the first hour's ex- 
 perience within its present streets, should dis- 
 sipate so pleasant a dream. No mountain 
 walls can shut out the enemy that found en- 
 trance at the gates of Paradise. No seclusion 
 from the world can exempt individuals or fam- 
 ilies from that mortal contagion which began 
 with the first sin, and still runs in the blood 
 of all the race. The people of Nazareth had 
 a bad reputation even among the Galileans, 
 the rudest and worst of the people of Pales- 
 tine ; and the residence of Jesus in the little 
 town for thirty years did not make it any . 
 better. 
 
 How significant and awful the humiliation 
 of the Son of God, that he should consent to 
 
52 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 live for so many years unhonored, unknown, 
 in this rude, despised and wicked town. It 
 would have been infinite condescension in him 
 to have lived, for a single year, in the holiest 
 place or. earth ; or to have maintained the 
 state of kings in the most gorgeous palace ever 
 built by human hands ; or to have received the 
 gifts and homage of all nations, while every 
 tongue and every language was burdened with 
 his praise. 
 
 But for thirty years he dwelt in a town from 
 which it was thought a wonder if any good 
 thing should come ; he passed his daily life 
 with a people whose treatment of him war- 
 ranted the bad reputation which their neigh- 
 bors gave them. He began his mighty work 
 of lifting the whole human race up from dark- 
 ness and misery by going down himself to 
 that condition which the proud world despises 
 and tramples upon. He set his own feet upon 
 the paths which the poor and neglected must 
 tread. He took to his own bosom the woes 
 which the afflicted must suffer. He lived 
 thirty years of his life in this depraved and 
 despised Nazareth, that he might pour silent 
 
NAZARETH. 53 
 
 contempt upon the world's pride of place, and 
 fortune, and fame. He passed by the re- 
 nowned seats of wisdom, and glory, and em- 
 pire, and made his home in this humble, 
 mountain village, that his followers might learn 
 to make any post of duty honorable by their 
 own greatness and fidelity. 
 
 It will take all the centuries of time, and 
 the ages of eternity to measure the distinction 
 which the name of Jesus has conferred upon 
 this despised Nazareth. Everything which 
 meets the eye within this narrow vale is asso- 
 ciated forever with him, whose work shall be- 
 come the song of all nations, and whose glory 
 shall till the earth and the heavens. To some 
 humble home in this quiet vale, Gabriel, " the 
 mighty one of God," was sent to bear the best 
 tidings ever brought from heaven to earth, 
 tidings that the Prince, the Son of the Highest, 
 of whom the same heavenly messenger had 
 spoken to Daniel the prophet, five hundred 
 years before, was about to appear. To this 
 calm retreat the infant Saviour came back 
 from the flight into Egypt. 
 
 Breathing this air, drinking of these foun- 
 
54 WALKS AND HOMES 
 
 tains, eating of the fruit of these gardens, liv- 
 ing in a home just like one of these white stone 
 houses, he grew from infancy to manhood. 
 Through these narrow streets, along these 
 winding field-paths, up and down these ter- 
 raced hill-sides, up and down the steep and 
 stony road, from the great plain to the moun- 
 tain valley, he passed as peasants now pass to 
 their morning toil and their evening rest. He 
 listened to the birds of the air, the lark, the 
 linnet, the nightingale and the turtle dove, 
 whose voices are now heard in this valley. He 
 delighted himself with the wild flowers that 
 still make the meadows glow with their beauty. 
 This dome of sky spread over him with the 
 brightness of noon, with the glory of clouds, 
 and sunsets, and stars. These everlasting hills 
 offered him their solitudes for a sanctuary. 
 These wild olive groves, beyond the cultivated 
 fields, covered him with their shadows when 
 he spent the night alone in communion with 
 his Father. These dark glens heard his voice 
 when he went out before the dawn to pray. 
 From these lofty heights he looked forth upon 
 a land that waited a thousand years for his 
 
NAZARETH. 56 
 
 coining, and received him not when he came. 
 From the rocky walls, reared without hands 
 around this mountain home, he refreshed his 
 spirit in the morning wind from the great sea, 
 over which his Gospel should be carried to na- 
 tions and continents then unknown. 
 
 We do not indeed know the precise spot on 
 which the home of Jesus stood. We cannot 
 tell which one of these many paths among the 
 gardens and vineyards was trodden by his 
 feet. We speak only from strong probability 
 when we say that the child Jesus must have 
 often gone forth to this fountain in company 
 with the blessed mother. But it is certain that 
 his home was in this quiet vale, and that the 
 little town, "where he was brought up," is still 
 here. And that alone is enough to make the 
 valley of Nazareth, with all its permanent nat- 
 ural features, sacred forever more in the mem- 
 ory of all who believe that Jesus is indeed the 
 Son of God. 
 
 The treatment which our Lord received 
 when he attempted to begin his public minis- 
 try at Nazareth, is a sad and fearful exhibition 
 of the worst passions of the human heart, 
 
56 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 He had been baptized in Jordan and pro- 
 claimed by a voice from heaven as the Son of 
 God. He had triumphed in a three-fold con- 
 flict with the Prince of darkness. He had 
 manifested forth his glory by mighty works 
 and divine instructions at Cana, at Capernaum 
 and at Jerusalem. He had returned to the 
 secluded home where he had lived so long, 
 teaching and performing miracles as he came 
 from town to town, in the synagogues, in the 
 streets, on the hill-sides, by the sea-shore; 
 wherever the people would gather to hear, 
 wherever the sick were brought to be healed. 
 
 His fame had gone before him and his 
 return awakened curiosity in Nazareth itself. 
 But he was received with so much distrust and 
 jealousy, that even he who had lived with the 
 people thirty years, " marvelled at their unbe- 
 lief." He went about their streets, and talked 
 with the people, and laid his hands on a few 
 sick persons and healed them. But he was 
 everywhere met with jealous eyes and con- 
 temptuous words. The members of his own 
 family thought he wis "beside himself," and 
 
NAZARETH. 57 
 
 few could be found having faith enough to re- 
 ceive aid from his healing power. 
 
 When the Sabbath came, he went in and 
 took his seat in the synagogue, as he had been 
 accustomed to do in former years. The ser- 
 vice of song and prayer and reading the 
 scriptures and exhortation was administered by 
 the chief elder in the usual form. At the 
 close of the service, when the attendant of the 
 synagogue was carrying back the book of the 
 prophet Isaiah, from the pulpit in the centre 
 of the house, to the ark at the end towards 
 Jerusalem and all eyes were fixed with awe 
 upon the sacred scroll, Jesus stood up as he 
 could do according to the usage of the service, 
 and demanded that the scroll should be given 
 him to read. Unrolling the parchment and 
 standing there, himself the living and divine 
 interpreter of the prophet's words, he read, 
 " The Spirit of the Lord is upon me ; because 
 he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to 
 the poor ; he hath sent me to heal the broken- 
 hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, 
 and recovering of sight to the blind, and to set 
 
58 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 at liberty those that are bruised, to preach the 
 acceptable year of the Lord." 
 
 It was a great occasion for the little town of 
 Nazareth, when Jesus read those words in 
 their synagogue and said, "This day is this 
 scripture fulfilled in your ears." It was the 
 first time that he had publicly declared him- 
 self to be the ANOINTED of the Lord. None 
 of the prophets or kings or judges in the 
 whole line of Jewish history had ventured to 
 assume that exalted and awful name the MES- 
 SIAH. Leaving the Holy City, and all the sa- 
 cred and renowned places in the land, and all 
 the wise and mighty among the people behind, 
 he had come to this rude and despised moun- 
 tain village to speak, for the first time, the 
 greatest and the most gracious words that had 
 ever been spoken on earth. In this humble 
 synagogue of Nazareth, he had made the dec- 
 laration which the faithful in Israel had 
 waited and longed for ages and for centuries to 
 hear, and had died without the sound. 
 
 Oh! happy city, to whom the Prince of 
 peace himself brings the message of salvation. 
 First in opportunity, be thou first to welcome 
 
NAZARETH. 59 
 
 the world's Redeemer, and all nations shall 
 call thee blessed. Let thy voice break forth in 
 the first hosannas to the Lord's Anointed, and 
 streams of salvation shall flow from thy fa- 
 vored valley to all lands, and pilgrims from 
 the ends of the earth, shall come to walk in 
 the shadow of thy mountains and to worship 
 on the spot where Christ received the first 
 homage of a ransomed world. 
 
 Alas! for unhappy, unbelieving Nazareth, 
 that the rare opportunity to attain such exalted, 
 such blessed distinction should be worse than 
 thrown away. The eyes of all in the syna- 
 gogue were fastened upon Jesus when he 
 claimed that this great Messianic prophecy 
 was fulfilled in him. Their astonishment 
 knew no bounds. They had seen Jesus a 
 child in their streets. His home was among 
 the poor ; he had pursued an humble and la- 
 borious occupation for years. His family had 
 never gained the distinction of learning, or 
 riches, or rank, or power. They were looking 
 for a Messiah who should come with the state 
 of a king and the glory of a conqueror. He 
 must appear at the head of armies, and his le- 
 
60 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 gions must fly as the clouds. He must tread 
 down the heathen in his wrath, and deliver 
 Israel from every yoke. 
 
 Such an one will Nazareth receive as the 
 anointed of the Lord, not this son of Mary, 
 this brother of James, and Joses, and Jude, 
 who had been known among them as a carpen- 
 ter for twenty years. The very humiliation 
 which our blessed Lord had taken upon him- 
 self in love for our lost race, and which should 
 have opened every heart to receive him, was 
 an offense to the rude and passionate people 
 with whom he had lived so long. 
 
 He had promised the kingdom of heaven to 
 the poor. They only desired him to bestow 
 the riches and honors of a kingdom on earth. 
 He had come to heal those who were broken- 
 hearted for their sins. They were not looking 
 for such consolation as can be attained only 
 through penitence and contrition of soul. He 
 had preached deliverance to those who were 
 held captive by Satan. They were more anx- 
 ious to be delivered from bondage to Caesar. 
 He had come in meekness and lowliness, in 
 poverty and sorrow. They wanted riches and 
 
NAZARETH. 61 
 
 splendor; the parade of monarchs, and the 
 trumpets of victory. 
 
 And so they cried out against him with 
 wrath and cursing. Out of their synagogue, 
 out of their city, out of the world would they 
 cast him whose only offense was the meekness 
 and plainness with which he had spoken the 
 truth. The favored people, who were the first 
 to hear the most gracious words from the lips 
 of Christ himself, were the first to cry, " away 
 with him." With one consent, and with deaf- 
 ening cries, they break up the assembly ; they 
 surround him; they lay hands upon him, 
 every one eager to bear a part in destroying 
 him ; they hurry him forth to the brow of a 
 precipice, near by the synagogue, that they 
 may cast him down headlong. But suddenly 
 when they looked for him, he was not there. 
 He had passed through the midst of them and 
 was gone. He was not unwilling to die, even 
 for their redemption ; but the hour for the sac- 
 rifice had not yet come. They had had the 
 opportunity to secure the greatest distinction 
 ever conferred on any town or city since the 
 world began, and they had rejected it. 
 
62 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 In the course of the following winter, he 
 came once more, and for the last time, to this 
 secluded vale of Nazareth, after the people had 
 had time to reflect and to repent of their mad- 
 ness. He came when the fame of his mighty 
 works had filled the whole land. He had si- 
 lenced and cast out demons with his word. 
 The sick had been brought to him out of all 
 Galilee, and he had healed them. He had 
 given sight to the blind, and hearing to the 
 deaf, and speech to the dumb. At Capernaum 
 and at the neighboring hill-town of Nam, he 
 had raised the dead to life. And these evi- 
 dences of his divine power had been witnessed 
 by thousands. And the name of Nazareth 
 had gone with him through all the land. 
 
 But still the blinded and fanatical Nazarenes 
 could see nothing but a carpenter in the son 
 of Mary. Having once committed themselves 
 to the rejection of Jesus, it was still too much 
 for their pride to recognise in him the- prom- 
 ised Redeemer of Israel, the Saviour of the 
 world. And so Nazareth confirmed and fas- 
 tened on itself forever the dreadful reputation 
 of having been the first to receive the public 
 
NAZARETH. 63 
 
 announcement of the Messiah from his own 
 lips, and the first to reject him. 
 
 The evidences that Jesus of Nazareth is the 
 Son of God and the only Saviour, have been 
 increasing from century to century, for eighteen 
 hundred years, and still there are millions to 
 reject him. He comes to the weary with the 
 offer of rest, and they cling to their burdens 
 and refuse his help. He comes to the afflicted, 
 offering to heal their sorrows and bear their 
 grief, and they still mourn over their troubles 
 and will not be comforted. He comes to the 
 worldly and the unbelieving, to the disap- 
 pointed and the unhappy, offering to do for 
 them just what they need most to have done., 
 bringing the testimony of millions on earth and 
 in heaven, that he is able to do all that he pro- 
 mises. And yet they shut their hearts against 
 him ; they live without peace, and they die 
 without hope. 
 
 When Jesus shall come in his glory, the 
 men of Nazareth will pray to be covered by 
 the rocks of their own mountains, rather than 
 meet the face of him whom they thrust out of 
 their synagogue, and would have hurled down 
 
64 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 the precipice of their hill-side. Still greater 
 in that day will be the consternation of those 
 who have had the history of Christianity for 
 two thousand years and the testimony of mil- 
 lions on earth and in heaven to help their 
 faith, and yet have not believed. 
 
 It is indeed human to err, and the wisest 
 often mistake. But all other mistakes are as 
 nothing compared with the one of rejecting 
 Christ. All have sinned, and if God should 
 be strict to mark iniquity against us, we could 
 not answer him for one of a thousand of our 
 transgressions. And all other sins may be for- 
 given. But for him who rejects Christ, there 
 is no other Saviour. To reject him is to reject 
 infinite love, infinite truth, infinite mercy. To 
 turn him from the heart is to renounce all of 
 life, and peace, and joy, that heaven and etern- 
 ity have in store for the redeemed soul. To re- 
 ject Christ is to say, "Prison of despair be my 
 habitation ; Prince of darkness, reign over me 
 forever." 
 
CAPERNAUM. 
 
Leaving Nazareth, He came and dwelt in Capernaum. 
 MATT. iv. 13. 
 
III. 
 
 CAPERNAUM 
 
 SEA OF TIBERIAS. 
 
 T Bethlehem, Jesus was born, at Naza- 
 reth, he was brought up, at Jerusa- 
 lem, he died. Capernaum enjoys the 
 rare distinction of being called "his own city." 
 At Capernaum alone, he is said to have been 
 ' ' at home." Expelled from their synagogue and 
 from their streets by the rude and fanatical 
 dwellers among the hills, he came clown to the 
 
 fi7 
 
68 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 lake-side to make his abode and begin his min- 
 istry. 
 
 The little sea of Galilee fills the bed of a 
 volcanic rift among the highlands. The waters 
 from the hills have run down and filled the 
 .mouth of the furnace out of which the earth- 
 fires once flamed. The steam, rising from hot 
 and sulphurous fountains flowing across the 
 white beach at the southern extremity, proves 
 that the fires are still burning beneath. The 
 lake looks the less in size because it lies so 
 deep between the parted hills, and the clearness 
 of the atmosphere brings the encompassing 
 walls so near each other. 
 
 When the sky is clear, and the sun is high 
 at noon, and the scathed and furrowed cliffs 
 cast no shadows upon the still surface of the 
 water, the whole landscape has a blasted and 
 desolate expression, as if lying under the spell 
 of some awful doom. But the whole scene is 
 changed when the day breaks with the glory 
 of an eastern dawn over the hills of Bashan, 
 or the evening casts its purple shadows from Ta- 
 bor and the mount of the Beatitudes, or a sud- 
 den blast rushes down through the wild gorges 
 
CAPERNAUM. 69 
 
 of the high table-lands, and lashes the whole 
 surface of the lake into snow-white foam. 
 Travelers, who only ride down from the hills 
 of Galilee and spend a hot and weary day in 
 traversing the white beach, gazing upon the 
 glimmering sand, the glassy waters, and the 
 brown shore, are apt to pronounce the whole 
 scene desolate, monotonous and uninteresting. 
 But those who take time to witness the changes 
 of calm and storm, morning and evening, noon 
 and night, never tire of talking of its beauty. 
 
 The whole region has greatly changed since 
 Jesus came down from Nazareth to make his 
 new home at Capernaum. Then the lake was 
 alive with boats, scudding before the wind, 
 moving slow with laboring oars, or resting in 
 the calm with drooping sails. The white line 
 of the shore was set with bright little towns, 
 like a string of pearls encased between the 
 edge of the burnished mirror and its brown 
 frame-work of hills. Villages of white stone 
 houses covered the neighboring heights ; ham- 
 lets clustered on the terraced slopes, and at the 
 head of valleys looking toward the lake. The 
 sower cast his seed into all the good ground of 
 
70 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 the narrow plain, and the vintager trained his 
 vines wherever earth enough could be found to 
 hold the root on the sunny cliffs and ledges. 
 
 The deep depression of the lake acted upon 
 the enclosed air like some vast conservatory, 
 keeping up a tropical temperature through 
 most of the year. Flowers blossomed and 
 fruits ripened on the shores, while the snow 
 lay in sight on the hills above. The fishermen 
 boasted that they drank the waters of the Nile 
 and enjoyed the climate of Egypt, while the 
 shepherds were shivering with cold on the 
 neighboring heights, or were wandering from 
 valley to valley in search of fountains for their 
 thirsty flocks. The green band lying between 
 the white beach and the base of the hills, was 
 crossed and fertilized in many places by streams 
 bursting forth with a river's strength, from the 
 foot of the cliffs. In one place this narrow 
 band widened to a breadth of several miles, 
 forming a plain which received the name of 
 Gennesaret, u Gardens of Princes," "Para- 
 dise." Near the northern boundary of this 
 fertile plain was the town where Jesus came to 
 make his home. 
 
CAPERNAUM. 71 
 
 Capernaum was but one of nine cities stand- 
 ing directly upon the lake- shore, the whole 
 circuit of which could be seen from the roof 
 of the synagogue which the Roman centurion 
 had built, and in which Jesus often taught. 
 From the same point, numerous high places 
 could be seen on the Galilean shore, crowned 
 with villages, the least of which was large 
 enough to be called a city; beautiful, as all 
 eastern towns are beautiful in the distance; 
 shining with their white stone houses, like ala- 
 baster in the morning sun, and all crowded 
 with a restless and busy population. During 
 the day, pleasure boats were darting to and fro 
 upon the whole surface of the lake, and at eve- 
 ning, hundreds of fishermen put forth to let 
 down their nets and gather of every kind. 
 
 Jesus did not g3 down to Capernaum to seek 
 retirement, or to find a quiet and cultivated 
 people. The town was in the very focus of all 
 social and industrial activity in northern Pal- 
 estine. The region was more densely peopled 
 than any other portion of the country, and the 
 population was more various than elsewhere. 
 Jew, Greek and Roman mingled with Arab, 
 
72 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 Persian and Egyptian, in the streets of the ten 
 cities, and in the trade of the miniature sea. 
 The only carriage roads ever made in Palestine 
 were built by the Romans, and the most im- 
 portant of them all passed through Capernaum 
 .from Damascus to Jerusalem. Pilgrims, mer- 
 chants, caravans, scholars, laborers, devotees, 
 were continually passing north and south. The 
 words spoken by Jesus on the Mount of the 
 Beatitudes within sight of the city, and the 
 mighty works done by him in its streets, 
 would soon be reported in Syria and Arabia, in 
 Greece and Egypt, as well as in all Palestine. 
 
 The great Teacher bound up his sacred pre- 
 cepts with all the peculiar seasons, aspects and 
 occupations of the region ; and he put forth his 
 divine power to help and to heal Jew, Greek 
 and Roman; the rich who were courted for 
 their wealth, and the poor who were despised 
 for their poverty ; the leprous whom everybody 
 shunned, and the possessed whom everybody 
 feared. So, taking his stand where the stream 
 of the world's travel passed between east and 
 west, north and south, Babylon and Rome, 
 Scythia and Ethiopia, speaking to instruct, and 
 
CAPERNAUM. 73 
 
 putting forth his hand to help all that went and 
 came, Jesus presented himself as the Saviour 
 of men, the Desired of all nations, the bond of 
 union between all kindreds and tribes of the 
 earth. His peculiar mode of teaching in the 
 synagogue of Capernaum, on the shore of the 
 lake, and on the hill-sides above the city, has 
 the stamp of reality in every illustration, and 
 it has graven the leading features of the scene 
 upon the minds of millions who were never 
 there. 
 
 1. THE SEA-SIDE. 
 
 The time that Jesus abode in Capernaum is 
 divided into nine periods of sojourn in the city, 
 and nine of missionary excursions through the 
 neighboring towns and districts. Four times 
 we find him teaching by the lake-side, three 
 times in the synagogue, once on the mount 
 above the city, and always speaking the words 
 of eternal life, as he came and went up and 
 down the wild paths of the hill-country, as he 
 entered into hamlets and villages, crossed and 
 recrossed the lake, dined and lodged with rich 
 and poor and made himself equally familiar 
 with all the interests and occupations of men. 
 
74 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 By his blessed life and mighty works and divine 
 instructions, he made the lake, the shore, the 
 hills, the sky, hallowed in the hearts of his 
 followers for all succeeding time. "By reviving, 
 so far as we can, scenes in the midst of which 
 he lived and walked with men, we give reality 
 to our faith, we bring the divine and human 
 into closer relations with each other, we make 
 it easier to believe that even now, the humblest 
 home may receive the Son of Glod for a guest, 
 the lowliest occupation may be of service to 
 him. 
 
 Let us go down to the lake-side and listen, 
 while Jesus speaks to the fishermen on the 
 shore. It is the morning hour, and the flush 
 of dawn is kindling and rising along the level 
 wall of the eastern mountains. The hills, the 
 shore, the white towns, the oak woods of Tabor 
 and the barren heights of Bashan rise to view 
 with increasing clearness, and above, the stars, 
 that hung all night like crystal lamps from the 
 blue dome of the sky, go out, one by one, in 
 the coming glory of the full day. The still 
 surface of the lake lies like a dark mirror of 
 burnished steel encased in its high frame-work 
 
76 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 evening to conversation, the night to sleep. 
 And now in Capernaum, travelers are starting 
 on their journey, laborers are going out to work 
 in the fields and vineyards, merchantmen are 
 pursuing their trade, women are bringing water 
 from fountains, shepherds are leading forth 
 their flocks on the hills, and fishermen are 
 gathering upon the shore. 
 
 Jesus is no longer alone. The toilers upon 
 the sea signal to each other, that the Prophet 
 of Nazareth may be seen on the shore, and 
 laboring oars are pulling in boats from every 
 direction. The multitudes, who had followed 
 Jesus from the hill-country and had lodged in 
 the town over night, have learned his retreat, 
 and are hurrying down to the beach, carrying 
 with them as many more from the streets of 
 Capernaum. The surging crowd gather closer 
 and closer upon Jesus until he is pressed down 
 to the water's edge. At last he is compelled 
 to request one of the fishermen to receive him 
 into his boat, and thrust out a little from the 
 land, that the people may no longer tread upon 
 each other in the endeavor to approach him, 
 
CAPERNAUM. 77 
 
 and that they may the better give quiet atten- 
 tion to his words. 
 
 And so he sits in the bow of the unsteady 
 boat, teaching the multitude that stand or re- 
 cline and listen on the shore. Calm, patient, 
 condescending, he bears with their rudeness, 
 he pities their ignorance, he speaks to them as 
 man never spake. 
 
 Oh ! what a scene is this. The Son of God, 
 the King of heaven, the Sovereign of all worlds, 
 comes upon a mission of mercy for the redemp- 
 tion of nations, and he passes by the schools 
 of philosophy, the courts of kings, the camp 
 of the conqueror, and he goes down to the 
 lake-side, in the early morning, to deliver his 
 message to peasants and fishermen. He sits 
 there upon the swaying seat of a fisherman's 
 boat, talking to the rude and noisy crowd on 
 the shore, when he might sit upon the throne 
 of heaven, and receive the homage of arch- 
 angels. 
 
 And in this humble scene on the shore of the 
 Galilean lake, we find the most momentous 
 crisis in human destiny. Under the calm 
 deportment of this unpretending teacher, who 
 
 7* 
 
78 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 came down from the hills of Nazareth, is trea- 
 sured up the germ of revolutions and con- 
 quests, heroisms and sacrifices which shall 
 make a new history for the world. With his 
 gentle words there shall go forth a power to 
 stir and shake the nations, as the lake is 
 roused and ploughed into foam by a sudden 
 blast from the hills of Bashan. The conquests 
 of Caesar and Alexander, the decrees of the 
 Roman senate, the founding of Athens and 
 Rome and Alexandria were events of trifling 
 importance in the world's history, compared 
 with the work which Jesus was doing, when he 
 taught the multitudes on the shore of the lake, 
 and called Simon, and Andrew, and James, and 
 John, to forsake their nets and follow him. 
 
 These unlettered peasants of Galilee shall 
 fulfill their divine commission with a wisdom 
 and energy correspondent to its greatness, 
 They shall acquire an unrivalled mastery over 
 the cultivated mind of the world. They shall 
 be quoted as supreme authority at the head of 
 armies and in the councils of nations. They 
 shall start revolutions in opinion before which 
 the mighty, fabric of old superstitions shall be 
 
CAPERNAUM. 79 
 
 cast down, and the profound theories of philos- 
 ophers shall be changed to fables. They shall 
 be more honored, and their lives and instruc- 
 tions shall be studied more earnestly, the higher 
 the world rises in intellectual and moral culti- 
 vation. And all these mighty results shall flow 
 from words which Jesus speaks to a company 
 of poor, tired, hungry, disappointed fishermen, 
 on the shore of the sea of Galilee. So truly 
 was it one of the great hours of destiny for the 
 world, when Jesus said to those wondering and 
 awe-struck men, " Follow me." 
 
 We have only to listen to the words of 
 Jesus as he speaks by the sea-side, and we 
 shall be able to clothe the most striking fea- 
 tures of the scene with living reality. Before 
 him, in full sight, as he looks toward the peo- 
 ple on the shore, is the fertile and beautiful 
 plain of Gennesaret. The unfenced fields are 
 divided only by foot-paths and land-marks. 
 At this season of the year, in the tropical cli- 
 mate on the depressed level around the lake, 
 the sower and the reaper may be seen scattering 
 and gathering different kinds of grain side by 
 side. On the slopes of the hills beyond, are 
 
80 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 shelving rocks, where the thin earth, moistened 
 by the early rain, catches the first warmth of 
 spring and shoots up the most rapid growth. 
 When the rains cease and the sun shines all 
 day from a cloudless sky, the premature 
 growth withers away because it has no deep- 
 ness of earth. Everywhere along the path- 
 ways in the neglected corners of the fields and 
 up the hill-sides, may be seen tufts of thorns 
 growing so thickly as to choke all other vege- 
 tation. The birds of the air are sporting and 
 foraging for their morning meal in every direc- 
 tion, caring little for the cries of watchmen 
 who are set upon towers and under booths to 
 fray them away. There are no solitary farm- 
 houses scattered through the cultivated lands, 
 The sower, the reaper, the vintager, must all 
 " go forth " from the town to their daily task. 
 
 All this can be seen by the multitude from 
 the lake-side in the clear light of the morning, 
 when Jesus takes up his parable and says, " A 
 sower went forth to sow." The birds alighting 
 upon the paths through the unfenced fields 
 where some of the sower's seed would always 
 fall, the thin earth of the stony places, already 
 
CAPERNAUM. 81 
 
 parched and withered by the advancing season, 
 the stubborn thorns choking all useful vegeta- 
 tion, and the good ground bringing forth a 
 hundred fold for the reaper's hand, are -all in 
 sight while the divine Teacher employs these 
 natural similitudes in setting forth the recep- 
 tion of his word in the human heart. . And he 
 so binds up the great truths of the heavenly 
 kingdom with these earthly things, that the 
 sun and the rain, the seasons and the harvests, 
 will continue to repeat his sacred lessons to the 
 susceptible heart, so long as the world shall 
 stand. 
 
 Alas ! how many hearts are still like the 
 hard-beaten track of the barren and dusty 
 road, insensible as the pavement of the trodden 
 street, open for the passage of all the world's 
 burdens and business, but receiving the pre- 
 cious seed of the divine word only to have it 
 stolen away by the first plunderer or tempter 
 that passes. How many are like the thin 
 earth upon the rock, receiving the message of 
 life with sudden joy, burning with zeal to pro- 
 claim the new hope, rebuking the thoughtful 
 and the considerate for coldness and delay, and 
 
82 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 yet all withered and lifeless under the increas- 
 ing heat of trial and temptation, which is sent 
 to bring forth fruit unto perfection. How 
 many are like the neglected borders and cor- 
 ners of the field, so overgrown with thorny 
 cares and anxieties, with earthly pleasures and 
 ambitions, that the things of the heavenly 
 kingdom can find no place in their hearts. 
 And yet when the seed of the divine word falls 
 into the good ground of an honest and believ- 
 ing heart, it is sure to bring forth fruit unto 
 eternal life. Not only a hundred, but infinite 
 fold shall be the harvest of peace and joy 
 springing from a faithful reception of Christ's 
 word by a single soul. 
 
 The whole western shore of the lake is gilded 
 over with the yellow blossoms of a plant that 
 grows by cultivation in the gardens, springs 
 up unbidden among the wheat and barley, lines 
 the pathways among the hills, and sheds its 
 pungent fragrance on the air, at this season of 
 the year, through the whole of Galilee. It is 
 the wild mustard, growing so high above all 
 kinds of grass and grain as to be called a tree. 
 Birds alight upon its branches and laborers 
 
CAPERNAUM. 83 
 
 rest beneath its shadow. It springs from a 
 seed so small as to afford a comparison for the 
 least of anything ; and it grows with irrepres- 
 sible vitality all over the land. 
 
 All this is before the eye and familiar to the 
 observation of all who listen when Jesus says, 
 "The kingdom of heaven is like to a grain of 
 mustard seed." In such vivid forms does he 
 lodge in their wondering minds the germ of the 
 great truth that the work begun by him in so 
 simple a manner on the shore of that quiet 
 lake, shall live and expand until it fills the 
 earth. This little, fiery, pungent seed, which 
 gives forth its power the more it is bruised, and 
 which grows on every hill-side and in every 
 valley in spite of all efforts to destroy it, shall 
 help these poor Galileans to understand the 
 quickening power, and the invulnerable life of 
 the truth, which is to spread from the lips of 
 Jesus over all lands and through all ages. 
 
 This wondrous kingdom of God, whose 
 Prince appears as a Galilean peasant, who 
 makes prime ministers of the poor, and takes 
 a fishing boat for a throne, shall grow in great- 
 ness and in glory, until all the kingdoms of 
 
84 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 the earth become subject to its power, and all 
 the principalities of heaven rejoice in its tri- 
 umph. This promised unity of nations, which 
 the princes and philosophers of this world 
 could never comprehend; this mighty moral 
 revolution, which is to make all other changes 
 and conflicts the instruments of its own accom- 
 plishment, is the great germinal truth, planted 
 by Jesus himself on the shores of the sea of 
 Galilee, when teaching the multitude from a 
 fishing boat. The fruit of that seed has already 
 given life to millions, and it is destined to fill 
 the earth with the abundance of peace and 
 salvation. 
 
 This whole region has been repeatedly over- 
 run and devastated by invading armies, and 
 by roving bands of lawless men, whose sole 
 object is to plunder and destroy. From the 
 days of Solomon, and Joshua, and Abraham, 
 the whole country around the lake has been 
 subject to every change and calamity which 
 can make life and property insecure. Princes 
 have robbed peasants and merchantmen ; gov- 
 ernment has robbed princes ; conquerors have 
 robbed all alike. Changes in the ruling power 
 
CAPERNAUM. 85 
 
 have been frequent and liable to occur at any 
 time; and whatever the change, the holders of 
 property must always suffer. For centuries it 
 has been the study of the people to save pro- 
 perty from robbery, extortion and conscription. 
 It has become a maxim of prudence and fore- 
 sight with the rich, that a third of one's pos- 
 sessions should be hidden in the earth. 
 
 This has been the feeling and the custom of 
 the country for more than a thousand years. 
 In many cases, the place of concealment has 
 been forgotten or lost through the sudden 
 death, imprisonment or exile of the only one 
 who knew the secret. And so the impression 
 is everywhere diffused, that immense sums 
 may lie buried in any man's field or garden, 
 and no living owner to claim them. Every 
 one has heard tales of great riches suddenly 
 acquired by the discovery of treasures hidden 
 in the earth. Treasure-seeking has been taken 
 up as a profession to the neglect of the regular 
 pursuits of industry. Some go about the coun- 
 try, pretending to the art of detecting the place 
 where money has been concealed. Men have 
 fainted or become frantic with excitement upon 
 
86 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 discovering a trifling sum. The peasant in the 
 fields, the householder in his garden, the tra- 
 veler by the wayside, is all alive to any indi- 
 cation, that possibly he may light upon great 
 riches hidden in the earth. All over Galilee 
 men can be easily found, in any number, to 
 dig all night in desperate earnestness and with 
 the utmost secrecy, with the bare hope that 
 some idle tale or mischievous invention of 
 professional treasure- detectors may prove true. 
 
 Jesus speaks to men upon whose fervid im- 
 aginations all these wild traditions and extrav- 
 agant expectations have taken effect from the 
 earliest youth. In the midst of a country, 
 where these customs have been universal for a 
 thousand years, he draws the attention of the 
 multitude to the only permanent and satisfying 
 possession by saying, "The kingdom of hea- 
 ven is like unto treasure hid in a field, the 
 which, when a man hath found, he hideth, 
 and for joy thereof goeth and selleth all that 
 he hath and buyeth that field." 
 
 He would show them that there is an infinite 
 treasure hidden where all who seek can find it. 
 He has come to lead and direct the search. 
 
CAPERNAUM. 87 
 
 The poorest who keep his word shall be made 
 richer than all the princes of the earth. This 
 infinite treasure can be found by every one, in 
 the path where he walks, in the house where 
 he lives. When found, it can be kept so as 
 never to be lost, and he who possesses it, shall 
 only be made richer by sharing it with others. 
 To possess such a treasure, one can well afford 
 to sell or sacrifice all else that he has. 
 
 2. THE SYNAGOGUE. 
 
 The Jews of Capernaum were proud of their 
 synagogue. It was built by a Roman Cen- 
 turion as a tribute of respect for their simple 
 form of worship, and for the sublime truths 
 of their religion. It was made of white marble, 
 beautiful in proportions, and shining like the 
 snows of Hermon in the morning sun. Its 
 dazzling whiteness was the more conspicuous 
 from contrast with the houses of black, vol- 
 canic rock with which it was surrounded. It 
 was equal in dimensions to the temple of Solo- 
 mon. Its colonnade and portico were of 
 Grecian style, and the ruins of to-day remind 
 the traveler of the fluted shafts and finished 
 
88 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 capitals of Ephesus and Athens. It stood* 
 upon the high ground, with its pillared front 
 and lofty steps, wide as the whole structure, 
 facing to the north. The whole upper portion 
 of the building, ornamented with deeply 
 carved flutings and flowers and acanthus 
 leaves, rose above the surrounding houses 
 of the city, and could be clearly seen from every 
 town and village on the shore of the lake. 
 
 The worshipper dipped his hands in the 
 water of a running fountain as he mounted the 
 lofty steps. Then he reverently and solemnly 
 crossed the marble floor of the broad portico, 
 pushed aside the heavy curtain from the door- 
 way, entered and bowed himself in prayer with 
 his face towards Jerusalem. Once within the 
 walls, he must leave all worldly employments 
 and conversation without. The building it- 
 self, once dedicated to religious worship, must 
 never be used for any other purpose. 
 
 At the upper end stood the ark or chest, in 
 which the book of the law was kept ; and the 
 presence of the sacred scroll made that part of 
 the building the most holy place. The lid of 
 the chest was called the mercy seat, and a veil 
 
CAPERNAUM. 89 
 
 hung before it lest its sanctity should le pro- 
 faned by too frequent exposure to vulgar eyes. 
 Before, the ark stood a golden candle-stick with 
 eight branches, lighted only on great festivals, 
 and a single silver lamp which was kept burn- 
 ing day and night. At this upper end of the 
 synagogue were the "chief seats," which the 
 scribes and Pharisees loved. In the central 
 portion of the building, was a raised platform 
 with a pulpit or reading desk in the middle. 
 The minister of the congregation ascended the 
 pulpit and the elders took their places upon 
 the platform around him. The rich and titled 
 personages vied with each other in securing the 
 places of honor at the upper end. The com- 
 mon people came in like their superiors, bow- 
 ing to the ark, and taking their places upon 
 the wooden benches or the marble floor. 
 
 The ordinary service of the synagogue was 
 a modification of the more stately and impos- 
 ing service of the temple at Jerusalem. And 
 the general form of service in Christian 
 churches is a modification of the service of the 
 synagogue. First was the prayer of invocation 
 and praise. Then the whole congregation, led 
 
 8* 
 
90 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 by ten men appointed to conduct the service 
 of song, joined in singing the psalms of David. 
 Then a person called the chazzan, who had the 
 general care of the building, went up to the 
 ark, reverently drew aside the veil, lifted the 
 lid, took out the sacred scroll, carried it down 
 to the chief elder, who was standing in the pul- 
 pit to read. An exposition or practical address 
 followed the reading, and the scroll was car- 
 ried back and replaced in the ark. As it was 
 borne through the assembly, all followed it 
 with their eyes, many rushed forward to touch 
 and to press the sacred writing to their lips. 
 Women stretched forward their hands weeping 
 and the whole congregation manifested the 
 deepest emotion. Prayer followed the reading 
 of the scriptures and the address, and the con- 
 gregation responded " Amen," to the petitions 
 and benedictions of the elders. 
 
 When this formal service was completed, 
 opportunity was given to any in the synagogue 
 to speak. At the time when Jesus was going 
 to and fro among the towns and cities of Gali- 
 lee, it was a question constantly discussed in 
 all religious assemblies, "when would the Mes- 
 
CAPERNAUM. 91 
 
 siah appear, and what would be the signs of 
 his coming?" Jesus availed himself of this 
 expectation and of the free speech accorded to 
 all in the Sabbath service, to preach the gos- 
 pel of the kingdom in all their synagogues. 
 With this object in view, he often entered the 
 beautiful marble temple which the Roman 
 centurion had built for the Jews of Caper- 
 naum. 
 
 On one occasion when Jesus was there, the 
 silence and decorum of the sacred place were 
 rudely broken by the startling outcry of a 
 wretched creature whom the demons of dark- 
 ness had subjected to their cruel power. The 
 holy presence of the divine Healer awakened 
 the most passionate and contradictory emotions 
 in the mind of the one possessed. The mighty 
 woe which had been brought into his soul by 
 the power of Satan, broke forth in a cry which 
 seemed to come equally from the man himself, 
 and from the evil one. that tormented him. 
 There still remained in the enslaved and dark- 
 ened soul, light enough to disclose his own 
 misery. The possessing demon felt and ac- 
 knowledged the presence of the supreme Lord. 
 
92 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 And yet the unhappy man wanted the power 
 to make an earnest and consistent appeal to 
 Jesus for help. When his enfeebled will strove 
 to offer the prayer, the indwelling demon pos- 
 sessed his voice and made him utter the peti- 
 tion that Jesus would "let him alone." He 
 was like one in a dream, feeling himself to be 
 impelled towards the brink of some awful pre- 
 cipice, or about to be torn in pieces by wild 
 beasts, all the while conscious that it is a 
 dream, yet wanting the power to cry out or to 
 shake off the spell which binds him. The 
 will of the man was possessed by another and 
 a cruel power, and yet he had freedom enough 
 left to groan beneath the weight of the bondage 
 which was upon him. and to desire deliverance 
 by a mightier hand than his own. He had 
 indeed first offered himself a prey to the pow- 
 ers of darkness by his own voluntary sin. He 
 had opened the gate through which the enemy 
 came in with his own hand, and so his captiv- 
 ity had begun. And yet he was not fully will- 
 ing to give up the palace of the soul to the 
 evil possession. And his yearning for redemp- 
 tion, though expressed by rude outcries and 
 
CAPERNAUM. 93 
 
 contradictions, brought him within reach of 
 healing power. 
 
 The calin presence of Jesus awoke the tem- 
 pest of fear and hope and renewed torment in 
 his soul, just because he had not yet fully con- 
 sented to be at peace with the Satanic tyranny 
 which had crushed his manhood and bound 
 debasing fetters upon his soul. The usurping 
 demon put forth all his might to retain posses- 
 sion of the man, just because the divine De- 
 liverer was there, and nothing better suits the 
 malice of the powers of darkness than to hold 
 their victim in the presence of the Prince of 
 light. The wretched creature was torn and 
 convulsed by the terrible struggle, and he gave 
 utterance to his agony in groans and frantic 
 outcries before all the assembly. 
 
 And how shall this conflict end? Only in 
 one way; for by the confession of the demons 
 themselves "the Holy One of God" was there, 
 and the mightiest of their legions must obey his 
 word. The evil spirit could only rend his vic- 
 tim with one last and terrible torture while 
 leaving him; just as now, Satan is most active 
 to tempt and torment the souls of those who 
 
94 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 are renouncing his power and dominion for- 
 ever. 
 
 The time of our Lord's ministry would seem 
 to have been the crisis of the great conflict be- 
 tween light and darkness in this world. The 
 evil powers which had ruled with supreme do- 
 minion over men thus far, were summoned to 
 meet their divine Antagonist with all their 
 legions. And hence the demons were brought 
 face to face with Jesus in the sanctuary, in 
 private homes and in the desert. Their num- 
 bers were counted by single possessions, by 
 sevens, and by legions. In this particular 
 case, the defiant power followed Jesus into the 
 synagogue on the Sabbath, and cried out with 
 noisy and profane vehemence in the midst of 
 the solemnities of divine worship and instruc- 
 tion. 
 
 Jesus silenced and cast out the foul spirit 
 with a word; The soul of the one possessed, 
 torn and tortured by one final paroxysm of the 
 outgoing demon, was at last calm and free, in 
 the presence of Jesus. The assembly in the 
 synagogue, rightly counted this the most aston- 
 isliing evidence, that Jesus was in very deed, 
 
CAPERNAUM. 95 
 
 the Holy One of God. They had never before 
 seen or heard of one, who could command the 
 unclean spirits with such authority, that they 
 should silently and immediately obey him. By 
 this single act, Jesus asserted and proclaimed 
 his own complete mastery over the worst and 
 over all the evils that have ever plagued and 
 tortured the human race in all ages. 
 
 And here in this . synagogue of Capernaum, 
 on a quiet Sabbath morning, in the fullness of 
 the Syrian spring, the power of the prince of 
 darkness is for the first time crushed and put 
 to shame. The great enemy which has deceived 
 the nations for ages, and filled the earth with 
 sin and misery, is smitten and dismayed by a 
 single word from the lips of the Son of God. 
 All other helps and healings, which men need for 
 body or for soul, will be easily secured, when 
 once the author of evil is overcome. He who 
 gains the victory over the greatest foe, may well 
 be trusted to do for us exceeding abundantly 
 above all that we can ask or think. So the 
 assembly in the synagogue of Capernaum un- 
 derstood the mighty work of Jesus, in silencing 
 and dismissing the foul spirit that disturbed 
 
96 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 the morning service. For no sooner had the 
 sun set, and the Sabbath ended, than all the city 
 were gathered together at the door of the house 
 where Jesus was. The lame, the sick, the para- 
 lytic, the possessed, were all there. Leaning 
 upon the arm of friends, supported by crutches, 
 carried in beds, they all came, with the full 
 expectation that life and health would be theirs 
 again, if only they could have access to him, 
 whose single word had silenced and cast out 
 the foul spirit in the synagogue that Sabbath 
 morning. And they were not disappointed. 
 Jesus healed them all. When the wretched 
 and suffering, who crowded the street at sunset, 
 went to their homes, they walked without help 
 from friends. That night in Capernaum, sleep 
 came to many a couch where quiet rest had 
 long been a stranger. The next day, there was 
 nothing for the physician to do in that city. 
 
 And a deeper peace, a more profound and 
 blessed rest, would come to the hearts of mil- 
 lions, if only they could be persuaded to seek 
 it from him, whose touch was life and health to 
 the afflicted in the streets of Capernaum. He 
 did all his mighty works of healing upon the 
 
CAPERNAUM. 97 
 
 body, that he might prove his power and will- 
 ingness to do a greater work upon the stricken 
 and suffering soul. And into the streets of 
 every city, into every house where the story of 
 his life is read, he comes to do that greater 
 work for all who need. 
 
 On another Sabbath morning, the presence 
 of Jesus excited extraordinary interest in the 
 synagogue of Capernaum. The night previous 
 had been one of tempest and darkness on the 
 lake. The storm raged with great violence 
 from sunset to three o'clock in the morning, 
 and then subsided with strange suddenness 
 into a perfect calm, as the flame of a candle is 
 blown out with a single breath. The waves, 
 which ordinarily required many hours to be- 
 come composed, after such agitation, ceased in 
 the midst of their wildest commotion. One 
 moment the lake was lifting itself up with con- 
 vulsive billows, and groaning beneath the 
 scourge of the winds ; the next, it was smooth 
 as a sea of glass. 
 
 The Sabbath morning was calm and bright, 
 as if no tempest had ever shaken the earth or 
 the sea. The assembly gathered in greater 
 
98 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 numbers than usual, and as they ascended the 
 marble steps, and crossed the broad portico, 
 there were signs of excitement and curiosity 
 upon every face. The sudden cessation of the 
 storm, the news that Jesus was already in the 
 synagogue, when it was generally understood 
 that the night left him on the opposite shore, 
 the still stranger story told by some who came 
 around on foot from Bethsaida before the Sab- 
 bath evening began, the startling rumor that the 
 mass of the people were about to rise and set 
 up Jesus for their king, all this was quite 
 enough to quicken the quiet step, and disturb 
 the grave deportment, with which the assembly 
 usually gathered for morning worship in the 
 synagogue. 
 
 And besides the wonder and excitement 
 
 
 
 only increased, when they learned more fully 
 what had taken place the day before on the 
 other side, and how the night had been spent 
 by some on the lake. It was generally under- 
 stood in Capernaum the day before, that Jesus 
 had gone over with his disciples to the desert 
 country on the eastern side of the lake. As 
 the boat was seen to put off in that direction, 
 
CAPERNAUM. 99 
 
 and many knew that Jesus was on board, the 
 people gathered in great numbers and ran 
 afoot along the western shore and across the 
 bridge of the Jordan at the upper end of the 
 lake, and some were already waiting for him 
 on the other side, when he came to the land. 
 Not to be wholly deprived of the object for 
 which he had withdrawn from Capernaum, he 
 endeavored to steal away from the crowd, and 
 secure a little retirement with his disciples. 
 
 But he was moved with compassion for the 
 multitude, as they continued to gather, on foot 
 and in boats from all the neighboring towns, 
 and they seemed to him " as sheep having no 
 shepherd." The crowd of people was greatly 
 increased by additions from the annual caravan 
 of pilgrims on their way to Jerusalem, to at- 
 tend the great national feast of the passover. 
 
 Jesus came forth from his retreat, resolved 
 to teach and to heal the sick, while the day 
 lasted, and then to seek the retirement for 
 which he longed, in the solitude and darkness 
 of the night, on the mountains. Taking his 
 seat upon the grassy hill-side, where he could 
 be seen and heard by the vast assemblage, he 
 
100 
 
 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 continued to speak unto them, and to heal the 
 sick that were brought to him, until the sun 
 began to sink behind the hills of Gralilee. And 
 
 then to save the thousands of weary, hungry, 
 homeless people from perishing with faintness 
 and fatigue, as they sought shelter for the night, 
 Jesus fed all in the desert, with such simple 
 
CAPERNAUM. 101 
 
 food as they were accustomed to, and what 
 remained of the feast, when all were filled, was 
 more than the five loaves with which they 
 began. 
 
 The astonished multitude cried, that he who 
 could do such wonderful works, must indeed be 
 the Messiah, and they were ready to seize on 
 him by force, and carry him back in triumph 
 to Capernaum for their king, when suddenly 
 he disappeared from among them, and could 
 no where be found. 
 
 Left to themselves, they were obliged to 
 hurry back the way they came. For the Sab- 
 bath would begin at sunset, and the strictness 
 with which they interpreted the law would 
 forbid them to travel the distance of a mile, 
 even for food or shelter, on the holy day. If 
 the day closed upon them in that desert place, 
 they would have to remain there till the next 
 sunset, or else, in their estimate, break the 
 commandment by traveling on. the Sabbath. 
 Gerasa, Bethsaida, Chorazin, Capernaum, Mag- 
 dala, Tiberias, could all be reached in time by 
 land or water, by those who started at the hour 
 of the evening sacrifice. So all left the scene 
 
 9* 
 
102 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 of the mighty miracle before sunset, tne disci- 
 ples themselves being constrained by Jesus to 
 take to their boat and leave him in the desert 
 place alone. 
 
 All this was known to the assembly, gather- 
 ing in the synagogue of Capernaum the next 
 morning. But many who came around to the 
 city by land the previous evening, were sur- 
 prised to find Jesus himself at his usual place 
 among the worshippers. Then the disciples 
 increased their surprise by telling the story of 
 the night on the lake ; the fury of the storm ; 
 the nine hours of hard rowing against the 
 wind; the appearance of Jesus walking upon 
 the sea; the cry of alarm, and then the impul- 
 sive attempt of Peter to go out to meet him on 
 the water; the rescue of the sinking disciple; 
 the hushing of the storm, and the subsidence 
 of the waves, the moment that Jesus came on 
 board ; the safe return of all to the Grennesaret 
 shore, and the purpose already formed to send 
 messengers, as soon as the Sabbath sun was 
 set, all over Galilee to bring in the sick and 
 afflicted to be healed. 
 
 All this was quite enough to fill the minds 
 
CAPERNAUM. 103 
 
 of the assembly in the synagogue with wonder 
 and curiosity to know the meaning of what 
 they had heard. They could scarcely wait 
 for the ordinary service to close before they 
 gathered about Jesus, and began to question 
 him with great eagerness and severity. 
 
 "How came he there so early in the morn- 
 ing, when the evening left him on the other 
 side of the lake? Could he repeat the miracle 
 of the previous day, and support all his follow- 
 ers, as the fathers were fed with bread from 
 heaven in the wilderness? Had he in very 
 deed walked upon the sea and hushed the 
 storm? And could he give health, and strength, 
 and riches, and long life to all who would set 
 him up for a prince in the land? What new 
 and great sign could he show them of his au- 
 thority to restore the nation and redeem 
 Israel?" 
 
 To all such questions, Jesus only replied by 
 exposing their worldly and selfish motives in 
 seeking him, and by declaring that he himself 
 was the bread of life. The manna of Moses 
 and the- bread of yesterday's miracle, could 
 only appease hunger and sustain life for a time. 
 
104 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 Believing in him, they should never die. His 
 own flesh and blood must be given in sacrifice 
 for the world, and they must live by faith in 
 that sacrifice, or there could be no life in them. 
 He had indeed healed the sick, and fed the 
 hungry, and raised the dead. He had hushed 
 the winds, and walked upon the waves. But 
 he had not come to change the order of nature, 
 to bestow health without sickness, or harvests 
 without labor. It was not his great work to 
 bring in a material millennium of national ag- 
 grandizement and earthly prosperity. It was 
 his great office to give eternal life, and possess- 
 ing that, they need give themselves little anxiety 
 about things that perish. 
 
 The gross minds and dark hearts of the 
 Galileans could make little of such sayings, 
 and that single discourse of Jesus in the syna- 
 gogue, dissipated all the enthusiasm of the 
 multitude to array themselves under such a 
 leader. If their grand distinction as his fol- 
 lowers must be a spiritual and a holy life, 
 they would rather look for another Messiah. 
 
 And alas! for the scattered tribes of Israel, 
 that, to this day, they should look only for a 
 
CAPERNAUM. 106 
 
 Deliverer, who shall give the meat that perish- 
 eth, and not that which endureth unto eternal 
 life. And alas! for the millions of every race 
 lost in sin and misery, that they too should be 
 ready to compass sea and land for some trifling 
 earthly good, and yet turn away from Him 
 who alone has the words of eternal life. Like 
 blinded Israel, the world still waits for a Mes- 
 siah, who shall give kingdoms and crowns, 
 riches and glory, life and happiness on the 
 earth. Whoever promises to relieve bodily 
 suffering, to open new sources of wealth, to 
 multiply the means of present enjoyment with- 
 out imposing the task of personal reformation, 
 will have hearers and followers without num- 
 ber. But he who offers infinite riches, eternal 
 blessedness as the consequence and the reward 
 of a holy life, a life of duty, of benevolence 
 and self-denial, may have to mourn that his 
 most earnest pleading and his most faithful 
 instruction seem to others like an idle tale. 
 
 Science labors to explain all the mysteries of 
 nature, of providence and of man's immortal 
 being without one word of homage to Christ, 
 without anv reference to the need or the re- 
 
106 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 ality of redemption. The highest conceptions 
 of art, the most delicate refinements of taste, 
 often spring from utterly sensual and earthly 
 minds. Literature is ever adding to its al- 
 ready exhaustless resources of wit and argu- 
 ment and passion and invention, all fitted and 
 designed to persuade men to live for this world 
 alone. 
 
 And so too the necessities of labor, the 
 seductions of pleasure, the responsibilities of 
 public life, the pressure of business, the de- 
 mands of society are all assigned as helps or 
 excuses or temptations, by reason of which 
 men easily forget the infinite necessity of the 
 soul, the infinite inheritance of glory and 
 immortality. Christ alone has the words of 
 eternal life. The dark problems of duty and 
 of destiny become clear only when studied in 
 the light which shines from the cross. The life ^ 
 of the poorest and lowliest man on earth 
 becomes great and infinitely precious to him 
 when once he learns to receive and improve it 
 as a redeemed and everlasting possession for 
 the Son of God. 
 
CAPERXAUM. 
 
 107 
 
 3. THE MOUNT. 
 
 Let us now leave the narrow streets and the 
 stone synagogue, the white beach and the fish- 
 ing boats of Capernaum, and fall into one of 
 
 LAKE OF GALILEE. 
 
 the many dark lines of early travelers, who 
 are climbing the winding foot-paths toward the 
 mount of the Beatitudes just above the city. 
 Having accomplished the ascent, and taken 
 our seat with the multitude upon the grassy 
 slope of the mount, let us listen to the gracious 
 
108 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 words of the divine Teacher, and observe what 
 allusions he makes to objects around him. 
 
 It is the morning hour. Jesus had spent 
 the night in solitude on the mountain. His 
 withdrawal in that direction had been observed 
 at evening, and the multitude have come up 
 from the city and the villages by the lake-side 
 in search of him at this early hour. Seeing 
 them approach in great numbers, he comes 
 part-way down the height to a level place to 
 meet them. The sun is climbing the eastern 
 heavens, and the surface of the lake shines like 
 a sea of fire between the dark walls of its en- 
 compassing shores. Far away to the north, the 
 snowy height of Hermon rises like a cloud of 
 incense offered by the eternal hills in morning 
 worship to the King of heaven. The sur- 
 rounding heights and valleys, with all their 
 varied outlines of barren cliffs, and green ter- 
 races, and wild ravines, stand forth to view 
 with startling clearness in the blaze of light. 
 The suddenness with which the dawn gives 
 place to the day and wakes the sleeping world, 
 makes it seem as if the risen sun were the infi- 
 nite source of life and blessing to all creatures 
 
CAPERNAUM. 109 
 
 that live. The flowers put on a new beauty, 
 the foliage wears a deeper green, the birds sing 
 with a chorus of gladness, the flocks go forth 
 with joy to their mountain pasturage at the re- 
 turn of the light. 
 
 Jesus, first addressing the little company of 
 his disciples, who are to preach his gospel to 
 all nations, says, "Ye are the light of the 
 world." Great as is the change when the shades 
 of night disappear, and the morning pours its 
 glories on the hills of Galilee, it shall be a 
 greater transformation when the night of igno- 
 rance and superstition passes away, and the 
 nations wake to hear the voice of the Son of 
 God. The sun goes forth in the heavens to fill 
 the world with light. In like manner the dis- 
 ciples of Jesus shall go into all the dark places 
 of the earth and make the truth shine around 
 their path until the waste blooms with the 
 beauty of paradise restored. 
 
 The surrounding hills are crowned with vil- 
 lages, whose white houses gleam with dazzling 
 brightness in the morning sun. No true pic- 
 ture of the landscape would fail to make these 
 
 shining mountain cities most conspicuous and 
 10 
 
110 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 attractive to every eye. And Jesus takes up 
 his parable from them, and says, " A city set 
 on a hill cannot be hid." The life and homes 
 and instructions of those that follow him 
 shall be the light and landmarks of all future 
 history until the Lord's house is exalted 
 among the hills, and all nations flow unto it. 
 
 Winding through the green fields, and 
 climbing up the terraced hill-sides may; be 
 seen narrow paths, white and shining with the 
 earthy residuum of salt which has lost its 
 savor, and has been cast forth upon the barren 
 walk to be trodden under foot of men. In the 
 utter rejection of the worthless substance, 
 Jesus shows the doom of those who prove 
 false to their high commission, to keep his 
 truth and to save the perishing. 
 
 The distant hills of Bashan are in sight be- 
 yond the lake. They have been the haunt of 
 robbers and outlaws for ages. The listening 
 multitudes have heard many tales of murder 
 and crime committed by the dwellers in that 
 wild region, and they suppose that to such 
 men, no pity can be due in this world, and 
 nothing can be in reserve for them, but the 
 
CAPERNAUM. 11] 
 
 fires of gehenna, in the world to come. Rude, 
 violent and denunciatory in speech, and accus- 
 tomed to cursing even when talking with 
 friends, yet commending themselves for their 
 freedom from great crimes of violence, they 
 shudder and look at each other with wonder 
 when they hear the words of Jesus, "Whoso- 
 ever shall say, thou fool, shall be in danger of 
 the gehenna fire." 
 
 Pleasure boats are darting out from Tiberias 
 and Magdala for a morning sail on the lake; 
 and it is usual for the officers of Herod's gov- 
 ernment and the Roman army, to be there with 
 their guilty paramours, leading lives of lust 
 and dissipation, and the crowds from the streets 
 of Capernaum are waiting to hear the holy 
 Prophet of Nazareth pour out his denuncia- 
 tions upon these foreigners and imitators of 
 foreign manners, who are accounted sinners 
 above all them that dwell in Galilee. But 
 they blush and hang their heads for shame 
 when they hear him declare that the guilt of 
 the outward life is in the secret thought of the 
 heart. They are constrained to confess that in 
 themselves they may secretly cherish the fruit- 
 
112 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 ful source of all that appears so shameless and 
 revolting in the greatest criminals. 
 
 While he is speaking, trumpets sound the 
 reveille for the Roman troops garrisoned in the 
 cities on the lake shore. The long-drawn note 
 rings out upon the clear silent air, and dies 
 away in prolonged echoes among the hills. At 
 the signal, soldiers can be seen coming forth 
 for their morning parade upon the narrow 
 plain below. As they take their places in the 
 ranks they bow in military homage to the 
 golden eagle, which the Jews look upon as the 
 hated and idolatrous sign of subjection to a 
 foreign power. The turbulent Galileans can 
 never see that standard lifted up with the cus- 
 tomary salutation of trumpets and voices, 
 without feelings of bitterest hatred and re- 
 venge. And now the listening throng are im- 
 patient to hear what words of wrath the war 
 note of the heathen power will bring forth 
 from the lips of this promised Deliverer of 
 Israel. But what does he say to inflame the 
 passions of his hearers against the idolatrous 
 and oppressive conquerors? "I say unto you 
 love your enemies, bless them that curse you, 
 
CAPERNAUM. 113 
 
 do good to them that hate you, and pray for 
 them that despitefully use you and persecute 
 you." 
 
 A Roman courier, with half a dozen sol- 
 diers, comes up the high bank from the lake, 
 making his way across the hills westward, as a 
 bearer of despatches to Sephoris, the capital of 
 Galilee, and thence to Rome. As he passes in 
 sight of the great assembly, he falls in with 
 peasants who are going out, in the early morn- 
 ing, to work in their fields and vineyards. 
 The soldiers compel the poor laborers to go 
 along with them and carry their arms and 
 baggage up the steep ascent of the mountain 
 road. It is a common act of oppression, and 
 it is often accompanied with brutal provoca- 
 tions and blows. But while the multitudes are 
 looking on with indignation, and a burning de- 
 sire to revenge the wrong, the voice of the 
 divine Teacher again arrests their attention. 
 "I say unto you that ye resist not evil, but 
 whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, 
 turn to him the other also, and whosoever shall 
 compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain." 
 
 It is now midsummer, and the work of sow- 
 10, # 
 
114 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 ing and reaping is going on at the same time, 
 in the fertile plain of Gennesaret, where the 
 fields are green and flowers blossom every 
 month of the year. The tillers of the soil are 
 busily gathering what has already grown, and 
 anxiously watching that which is still imma- 
 ture, hoping and fearing, as husbandmen al- 
 ways do. Fishermen who draw their living 
 from the lake, are watching the signs of wind 
 and rain, and waiting for favorable nights to 
 fill their nets. And so, in one direction and 
 another, on the land and the lake, in the towns 
 and the fields, the shepherd and the vintager, 
 the merchant and the artisan, are anxiously 
 pursuing their daily tasks, and dreading the 
 consequences, should their labors prove unsuc- 
 cessful. 
 
 At the same time, flocks of birds, sporting 
 on the wing and in the water, make the morn- 
 ing air musical with their happy voices, and 
 beat the waves into foam with their fluttering 
 wings The joyous creatures attract the atten- 
 tion of the multitudes only to awaken the fear 
 that the harvest will be devoured in the fields, 
 and the fish on the shore will be frightened 
 
CAPERNAUM. 115 
 
 beyond the reach of their nets. And then the 
 calm voice of Jesus takes up the fear and leads 
 it on to faith, "Why take ye thought, why 
 are ye anxious about food, or raiment, or life ? 
 Behold the fowls of the air. For they sow not, 
 neither do they reap, nor gather into barns ; 
 yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are 
 ye not much better than they ?" 
 
 The listening multitude are mostly poor. 
 They have scarce clothing enough for comfort 
 or decency, and they wear the same coarse 
 garment through all the year. A rough man- 
 tle of camel's hair thrown across the shoulders 
 and bound around the body with a leathern 
 girdle is all that peasants and fishermen can 
 boast for ornament or for use. In summer 
 and in winter, in the houses and in the fields, 
 by night and by day, they wrap themselves in 
 the same soiled and shaggy covering. They 
 have sat down, by hundreds and by thousands, 
 on the grassy hill-sides to listen, desiring 
 nothing so much as that the miraculous power 
 of the new Prophet will be put forth in cloth- 
 ing them like princes, and enriching them 
 with the spoil of their heathen conquerors, 
 
116 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 The dark throng contrasts strangely with the 
 bright hues of flowers that bloom everywhere 
 in sight, from the lake-side, through the green 
 valleys and oak woods, upward to the base of 
 Tabor and over the hills towards Nazareth. 
 And again the voice of the wondrous speaker 
 foreruns the wish of all who hear, " And why 
 take ye thought for raiment? Consider the 
 lilies of the field how they grow ; they toil 
 not, neither do they spin : and yet I say unto 
 you that even Solomon in all his glory was not 
 arrayed like one of these." 
 
 The whole region in which Jesus is teaching 
 has been many times overrun by devastating 
 armies. The Babylonian, the Persian, the 
 Syrian, the Greek and the Roman, have all 
 passed that way, foraging in the fields and lay- 
 ing heavy exactions upon the towns. The 
 open c.ountry has always been infested by wild 
 beasts and robbers. For mutual safety the 
 people are obliged to live in villages, strong- 
 holds and walled cities, the gates of which are 
 guarded by day and shut by night. In many 
 directions from the mount of the Beatitudes, the 
 people can see the way of approach to the hill 
 
CAPERNAUM 117 
 
 towns, climbing up the steep, winding along 
 the precipice, terminating at the guarded gate. 
 Whoever would rest in peace, must be found 
 within the walls when the sun goes down. 
 The people are weary of this continual watch- 
 ing against danger. They long for the time 
 when all cities can keep open and unguarded 
 gates, day and night, and the tired wayfarer 
 can find admission without asking and at any 
 hour ; and the peasant can repose in safety 
 under his own vine and fig-tree in the field, 
 without seeking the protection of the town at 
 all. And from this universal desire to be 
 released from the necessity of effort and 
 watching, Jesus takes up his parable and 
 declares that entrance to the city that hath 
 everlasting foundations, must be sought in 
 time and with agonizing effort, or it will never 
 be found. "Strive to enter in at the strait 
 gate, for many, I say unto you, will seek to 
 enter in, and shall not be able when once the 
 Master hath shut to the door." 
 
 The multitude, gathered upon the mountain- 
 side above Capernaum, to hear the words of 
 Jesus had come from Galilee and from Decapo- 
 
118 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 lis, and from Jerusalem, and from Judaea, and 
 from beyond Jordan. Some of them had lived in 
 reed and mud-built hovels which a gust of wind 
 would blow away or a dash of rain would level 
 with the earth. Some had lived in houses the 
 foundations of which rested upon a rock, and 
 the walls of which had been standing for more 
 than a thousand years and are standing to this 
 day. Some lived in narrow valleys, the bed 
 of which was sometimes dry and sometimes 
 filled with a rushing and roaring torrent, that 
 swept everything but the solid rock before it. 
 Across the lake could be seen wild ravines and 
 gorges, down which the cold winds of Hermon 
 and Bashan swept with a fury that prostrated 
 everything in its way, and ploughed up the sea 
 into a phrensy of foam. Many had looked 
 forth from their safe habitations on the high 
 places of the rock, while the swollen streams 
 rushed below, and descending torrents of rain 
 filled all the air. Many had seen the place 
 where the indolent and thoughtless man had 
 built his house, and lived for a few seasons upon 
 the pleasant and more accessible plain, and then 
 at last, when the winter storms broke with un- 
 
CAPERNAUM. 119 
 
 usual violence upon the hills, was himself swept 
 away by the swollen torrent with the ruin of 
 his own dwelling. 
 
 Surely such an audience would feel the force 
 of the warning in the promise with which 
 Jesus concludes his sermon on the mount, 
 " Whoso heareth and doeth these sayings of 
 mine, shall be like the wise, who build on the 
 rock. And whoso heareth these sayings of 
 mine and doeth them not shall be like the fool- 
 ish, who build on the sand." 
 
 For eighteen hundred years, faith has kept 
 the sayings of Jesus, and built upon himself as 
 the living Rock. The storms of persecution 
 and the floods of sorrow, and the strong winds 
 of calamity, have blown and beaten upon that 
 structure, but it still stands, for it is founded 
 upon the eternal Rock. For eighteen hundred 
 years, unbelief has been building upon the 
 shifting sands of human opinion, and worldly 
 interest, and proud speculation, and nothing 
 built upon that foundation has been able to 
 stand. Amid all the tempests that hav6 swept 
 the earth, the firm house, the impregnable 
 fortress, the holy temple of our Christian faith, 
 
120 
 
 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 has stood secure upon its high and eternal 
 Rock. Though veiled at times in clouds, it has 
 come forth brighter from the darkness of every 
 storm. The floods which have carried away 
 its outer defenses of human forms, have only 
 shown more clearly the firmness of its true 
 foundation. And this stronghold of faith, 
 which rests upon Christ, as the living and 
 eternal Rock, shall remain secure, offering rest 
 to the weary, and a hiding-place to the perish- 
 ing, till the last tempest breaks. 
 
BETHESDA. 
 
Now there is at Jerusalem a fool called Bethesda, and a cer- 
 tain man was there, which had an infirmity thirty and eight 
 years. When Jesus saw him lie, and knew that he had been now 
 a long time in that case, he saith unto Aim, Wilt thou be made 
 whole /JOHN v. 2, 5, 6. 
 
IV. 
 
 BETHESDA. 
 
 ETHESDA, house of mercy, a name of 
 promise, and a promise wondrously 
 fulfilled on the day when Jesus came 
 there with His power to heal, and His mercy 
 to forgive. 
 
 His Grospel makes the world a house of 
 mercy to all that hear the joyful sound. We 
 boast of justice in our dealings with our fellow- 
 men; but there is nothing of which we have 
 so much reason to be afraid, as that God shall 
 treat us as we deserve. Justice alone, untem- 
 pered with mercy, would make the world a 
 prison-house for the guilty. It would thunder 
 from the heavens with voices of vengeance. It 
 would flame from the earth with fires of wrath. 
 It would poison the air with pestilence. It 
 would make every human habitation a house 
 of mourning. It would send the thrill of pain 
 
 123 
 
124 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 through every fibre of the human frame. It 
 would answer every desire of the heart with 
 disappointment. It would make life a burden, 
 and death the beginning of endless despair. 
 Such would be the consequence to us all, were 
 God to answer the prayer of the proud heart 
 "Give me only that which is my own. Let 
 the justice of my claim be the measure of thy 
 bounty." 
 
 But Jesus the Redeemer comes into a world 
 which sin has made one great lazar-house of 
 diseased and suffering humanity, and His pres- 
 ence makes it a house of mercy to millions. 
 Mercy shines in the morning light, and mercy 
 gilds the setting day. Mercy sings in the 
 laughing stream, and shouts in the darkening 
 storm. Mercy tempers the summer's heat and 
 the winter's cold; revives the parched earth 
 with the blessed rain; clothes the landscape 
 with beauty, and crowns the year with good- 
 ness. Mercy flies on the wings of angels to 
 the support of the feeble ; to the defense of the 
 poor; to the pardon of the guilty. Mercy 
 broods with bleeding heart over the bloody 
 field where armies meet in mortal strife, and 
 
BETHESDA. 125 
 
 watches amid scenes of horror and agony when 
 the glory and the ^magnificence of battle have 
 rolled away. Mercy brings the message of 
 hope to the despairing, of joy to the sorrowing, 
 of rest to the weary, and of life to the dead, 
 Mercy removes the sting of the last bitter 
 hour, and pours the glory of Paradise upon 
 the vision that is dim with the shadows of 
 death. Mercy makes a house of God in every 
 place where the penitent bow in prayer. Mercy 
 gives immortal life to all who look to Jesus to 
 be "made whole." 
 
 What a pitiable scene is presented by this 
 house of mercy at Jerusalem, named Be- 
 thesda! The marble floors of its five colon- 
 nades are covered with a miserable multitude, 
 whose silent aspect is a cry of woe, and whose 
 bare presence in such a place is a confession of 
 affliction and infirmity. The sick, the feeble, 
 the blind, are all here for the same purpose, 
 and hoping to receive help from the same 
 source. 
 
 Here, two faithful sons have brought their 
 poor paralyzed old father, and set him down 
 
 with his feet in the edge of the pool, and they 
 11 
 
126 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 are watching eagerly at his side, ready to take 
 him up and rush in at the first movement of 
 the healing wave. Close by their side sits a 
 mother, with anxiety and sorrow written in 
 every line of her face, as she looks tenderly 
 and caressingly upon the paler face of her in- 
 fant child; and she is there hoping to secure 
 the baptism of the agitated waters in behalf 
 of , her poor babe, that she may not be left to 
 bear the burden and the woe of life's weary 
 journey alone. There a young wife, with the 
 hectic glow of consumption burning upon her 
 wasted cheek, leans, panting for breath, upon 
 her husband's strong arm, feeling that but for 
 one earthly tie, it were better for her if the 
 bitterness of death were already past. Here 
 an aged mother is trying to persuade her affec- 
 tionate daughter to lead her home, and let her 
 lie down upon her bed and die in peace with- 
 out seeking to prolong a life that has already 
 had too many sorrows. 
 
 Here the blind have been led by friendly 
 hands, and seated on the margin of the pool, 
 with their sightless eye-balls seeking in vain 
 for light in the noon-tide blaze of the sun. 
 
BETHESDA. 127 
 
 Here the wretched paralytic lies helpless, with 
 the half of himself already dead, and wishing 
 that the other half would die too, or that both 
 might live together. Here are some so with- 
 ered, and old, and poor, that one would wonder 
 what life could be worth to them, unless indeed 
 the healing waters can give them back the days 
 of their youth. 
 
 Some are attended by many friends, who 
 cheer them with words of hope, and relieve 
 their sufferings with every possible attention. 
 Some have exhausted their utmost strength in 
 dragging themselves to the house of mercy 
 alone. Some are uttering cries of impatience 
 and pain ; some are sinking and fainting with 
 exhaustion ; some are waiting in calm and 
 trustful silence for the rippling of the water 
 when it shall be swept by the viewless angel's 
 wing. The long colonnade is crowded through 
 its whole extent, and the wants and woes of 
 the human race are represented by the multi- 
 tude drawn together by the mysterious power 
 of that healing fountain. 
 
 Among the friends of the afflicted and the 
 throng of idle spectators, a stranger enters the 
 
128 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 portico unobserved. He passes along with a 
 quiet step and a pitying look, till his eye falls 
 upon the most helpless and wretched of all the 
 company. For thirty-eight years that misera- 
 ble man has been bound to a crippled and suf- 
 fering body, and the long and dreadful servi- 
 tude has crushed his spirit and broken his heart. 
 The lustre of life has faded from his eye, and the 
 expression of interest from his face. His whole 
 personal appearance is most wretched and re- 
 volting, and the rest of the company shrink 
 from approaching or addressing him. He is 
 shunned the more carefully for the reason that 
 his infirmity is known to have been caused by 
 his own sin, and he is looked upon as smitten 
 of God, and accursed. He has no one to help 
 him when the favored moment comes to enter 
 the water. The troubled wave betrays the pres- 
 ence of a new life that never quickens him. For 
 years he has spread his miserable mat upon the 
 stone floor at the very edge of the pool, wait- 
 ing for the all-healing angel to descend, but 
 never has he been able to enter the troubled 
 water in time to be made whole. And he has 
 grown so old and impotent, and his long mis- 
 
BETHESDA. 
 
 129 
 
 ery has so nearly crushed the life out of him, 
 that many wonder why he need exhaust his 
 little remaining strength in creeping down to his 
 
 old place, when his continual coming has done 
 him no good. Many wish he would not come 
 to shock the sensibilities of others with the 
 sight of his wretchedness. 
 
130 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 On him the quiet stranger looks with a pity- 
 ing eye, till his attention is arrested, and then 
 He puts the startling question, "Wilt thou be 
 made whole?" Made whole! For. what other 
 purpose has he dragged his crippled frame to 
 that healing fountain? For what else has he 
 longed and groaned in spirit for thirty-eight 
 years ? What other blessing could he crave so 
 earnestly, while the faintest gleam of hope con- 
 tinued to shine in his enfeebled and darkened 
 mind? But now it seems almost like mockery 
 to ask him the question, for there is no eye to 
 pity, and no arm to help him. The healing 
 movement of the waters is all for others, not 
 for him. 
 
 But the wretched man has not half uttered 
 his despondency, before the eye that is fixed 
 upon him seems to kindle with a benignant 
 and divine light. The countenance of the 
 stranger assumes a most fascinating and com- 
 manding majesty which nothing can resist. 
 The helpless creature already feels that he 
 could travel to the ends of the earth at one 
 word from such a face as that. And no sooner 
 
BETHESDA. 131 
 
 thought than uttered, the quickening and crea- 
 tive word comes, "Arise walk." 
 
 There is no delay, no doubt, no question. 
 The diseased and despondent listener feels new 
 life rushing through every fibre of his frame. 
 Hope flashes like a new heaven upon his dark- 
 ened mind. He can, he will, he must obey 
 that voice, and, in the act of obedience, he be- 
 comes at once the strongest and soundest man 
 in the multitude. He, who it was thought 
 would be the last to receive aid from the heal- 
 ing fountain, is the first to be made whole 
 without its help. 
 
 The eyes of all are fixed upon him with as- 
 tonishment as he springs to his feet, throws 
 the matting on which he was lying across his 
 arm, and walks forth with the firm and elastic 
 step of youth. Excited spectators crowd around 
 him; the colonnade is filled by additional num- 
 bers attracted from without; the sick forget to 
 watch for the movement of the water; the 
 Sabbath stillness that reigned through all the 
 porticos a moment before is broken by the 
 clamor of many voices; every one is asking 
 who has done this mighty work ; and, in the 
 
132 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 meantime, the mysterious stranger, whose word 
 alone has made the man whole, disappears, and 
 is nowhere found. 
 
 The world is one great lazar-house of dis- 
 eased and suffering souls, and Jesus comes, in 
 the message of his word, to make them whole. 
 He cornes to you, whose eye now falls upon 
 this page, and his presence makes the place 
 where you read a house of mercy. The first 
 awakening call of the Gospel to every soul is 
 still the same as that which fell from the lips 
 of Jesus in the porches of Bethesda: "Wilt 
 thou be made whole?" This is the great ques- 
 tion of redemption in answer to the great cry 
 of humanity "Who will show us any good?" 
 Christ comes as a Saviour, a Healer, a Re- 
 deemer, and the help which he offers is suffi- 
 cient for the utmost sorrows and necessities of 
 
 
 the human race. 
 
 It is not a partial or a temporary relief 
 which he brings. He would make the wounded 
 spirit whole. He would save from a death that 
 shall never die. He looks upon us in love 
 that we may see in his eye the promise of 
 something better than the world can give. 
 
BETHESDA. 133 
 
 And when kindness fails to arrest our atten- 
 tion, he tries the greater kindness of chastise- 
 ment and sorrow. He sends afflictions and 
 disappointments that are bitter to the soul, 
 that he may awaken the sense of need, that he 
 may call forth the imploring cry "What 
 shall I do to be saved ?" That cry must be 
 awakened at whatever cost, or the fatal leth- 
 argy of sin will go on until it deepens into 
 complete and endless death. 
 
 The three great moral faculties of the soul 
 are faith, hope and love, and these lie all para- 
 lyzed and inactive until Christ comes to give 
 them life. 
 
 Faith is the living hand by which the soul 
 takes hold on infinite help. Faith is the con- 
 ducting medium by which the renewed heart 
 is made to beat in unison with the heart of 
 infinite love. Faith lifts the veil from the 
 unseen world and displays the glories of the 
 paradise above. Faith lightens the burden 
 and relieves the weariness of life by anticipat- 
 ing the rest of heaven. Faith rejoices in the 
 depths of affliction, conquers in the great fight 
 
 of temptations, waxes stronger under every 
 12 
 
134 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 trial of its strength, reposes for protection un- 
 der the overshadowing throne of the Most 
 High. 
 
 And yet without Christ, there is no assured 
 foundation on which such faith can rest. He 
 alone is the Author and the Finisher of faith. 
 He comes to the poor, the helpless and the 
 guilty, saying, " Believe and thou shalt see 
 the glory of God ; believe and thou shalt be 
 saved ; believe and thou shalt never die." 
 
 Hope is the recovered treasure, the loss of 
 which had left the soul utterly poor and un- 
 done. Hope can sustain the soul like a sure 
 and tried anchor amid all the tempests and 
 agitations of the world ; it can give confidence 
 and peace when the heavens are dark, and the 
 journey of life is ending in the valley of the 
 shadow of death. 
 
 Without Christ the soul is utterly without 
 hope, and he comes upon the mission of mercy 
 to bring back the lost treasure, and to make 
 every soul who will receive him infinitely and 
 forever rich in the possession of the hope of 
 eternal life. 
 
 Love is the golden chain which binds the 
 
BETHESDA. 135 
 
 believing soul in willing bonds to the service 
 of the supreme Sovereign, to the society of 
 the holy and the blessed, to the maintenance 
 of justice and truth forever and ever. Love 
 lifts the ransomed soul from the deeps of de- 
 spair, and gives it wings to climb the highest 
 heaven, and a voice to sing its great Redeem- 
 er's praise in sweeter strains than angels ever 
 sung. 
 
 And Christ comes to quicken, in every soul 
 that receives his word, the paralyzed capacity 
 for such love, and to kindle the faintest spark 
 of spiritual life into immortal flame. Christ 
 comes to lift up the depraved and darkened 
 slave of sin, and make him a fit companion for 
 the seraph that adores in the highest heaven, 
 and shines the brightest in the splendors of 
 the eternal throne. 
 
 These three great moral faculties of man 
 faith, hope and love, without the use of which 
 he, is a paralyzed and helpless creature this 
 immortal triad of powers, by the exercise of 
 which man enlists the help of Omnipotence, is 
 all in ruins until Christ comes with the word 
 of life. He comes to give soundness and un- 
 
136 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 conquerable vitality to man's ruined nature by 
 renewing its decayed and unused capacities for 
 faith, hope and love. 
 
 To you who read these lines, Jesus comes 
 pityingly as he came to the man in Bethesda. 
 To you he speaks with a voice which blends so 
 quietly with your own thought that it seems 
 like the voice of your own heart. " Wouldst 
 thou be made whole? Wouldst thou have 
 every faculty of thy spiritual and ' immortal 
 nature restored to a sound and healthful life? 
 Wouldst thou be brought into such a state of 
 intelligent and happy agreement with thyself 
 as that the lessons of experience, the deduc- 
 tions of reason, the monitions of conscience, 
 Shall be always and willingly obeyed? Wouldst 
 thou have thy whole moral being so completely 
 renovated and glorified as that to thee all 
 things shall become new; the world shall be 
 full of beauty; the pathway of life shall be 
 strewn with blessing; every loss shall be at- 
 tended with greater gain; every disappoint- 
 ment shall be the promise of greater good; 
 every affliction shall be crowned with mercy, 
 
BETHESDA. 137 
 
 and death shall come only to give the crown 
 of life?" 
 
 All this would Jesus gladly do for every 
 soul. It is not necessary for any one to give 
 up his heart to be wasted with vain conflicts, to 
 be consumed with unanswered desire. There 
 is rest for the weary even here, and Christ will 
 give it to all who ask him. Many times, in 
 many forms, he puts the question: " Wilt thou 
 be made whole?" When you felt yourself 
 drawn to the book of God by a secret and gen- 
 tle power, and a sudden light flashed upon the 
 page as you read, and it seemed, for the mo- 
 ment, as if it had been all written for you; 
 when the preaching of the Divine word and the 
 ordinary service of the sanctuary made an un- 
 usually solemn and persuasive appeal to your 
 heart ; when the prayer that went up from hu- 
 man lips seemed, in very deed, to take hold on 
 God, and to bring the awful realities of eter- 
 nity near; then Christ was stirring, in your 
 own heart, the startling question which he put 
 to the man in Bethesda, "Wilt thou be made 
 whole?" 
 
 When the failure of worldly plans, the dis- 
 12 
 
138 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 appointment of cherished hopes, the death of 
 beloved friends, the near approach of the eter- 
 nal world under the shadow of sickness or 
 danger, made all earthly things seem vain and 
 incapable of satisfying the supreme necessities 
 of the soul, then Christ was drawing near and 
 putting the question seriously, tenderly, to your 
 heart: "Wilt thou be made whole?" 
 
 When the love of Christ seemed to put on a 
 new and strange beauty and drew you to his 
 cross with a resistless power, and conscience 
 declared the sin of neglecting that power to be 
 very great, and you could not repress the long- 
 ing of your heart for a better portion than 
 earth can give ; then Christ was looking upon 
 you with tenderness and pity, as he looked on 
 the wretched man at Bethesda, saying : " Wilt 
 thou be made whole ?" 
 
 When some strange light revealed the hid- 
 den depth of sin in your own heart, and you 
 were so alarmed and horror-struck by the dis- 
 covery, that you were ready to cry out, " Oh ! 
 wretched man that I am ! Who shall deliver 
 me from the body of this death ?" Then the 
 Friend of the friendless, the Saviour of sin- 
 
BETHESDA. 139 
 
 ners, was saying to you, with such compassion 
 as he showed to the afflicted on earth : " Look 
 unto Me and be saved. I have "borne thine in- 
 iquities ; by the stripes laid on me thou canst 
 be healed." 
 
 So, in a thousand ways, is Christ ever urging 
 upon every hearer of his Gospel the acceptance 
 of the greatest possible blessing, a restored 
 spiritual life, a sound, healthful and happy ex- 
 ercise of the best and noblest faculties of the 
 soul. Everything which can make existence a 
 blessing, everything for which the deathless 
 soul was created, is staked upon obedience to 
 the word of Christ, when he says : " Come unto 
 me." The glory, the blessedness and the joy 
 of an eternal life are his who looks to Christ 
 and to him alone for help. The conditions 
 upon which he bestows infinite riches are such 
 as to bring the gift of life within the reach of 
 the poorest and the worst. 
 
 We must come to Christ confessing our need. 
 He comes to us as a Saviour, and we shall 
 never receive him to our hearts until we feel 
 that, without him, we are lost, utterly and for- 
 ever. He comes to make us whole, to deliver 
 
140 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 us completely and forever from the dreadful 
 disease of sin. To derive help from him, we 
 must feel that to live in sin is death, and to 
 die without a Saviour is endless despair. Our 
 great need, our utterly lost and hopeless state 
 must be our great argument in applying to an 
 infinite Saviour for help. And we must be 
 truthful and candid in confessing that we are 
 lost in ourselves, and then we shall look the 
 more earnestly to him for salvation. 
 
 We must go to Christ sincerely desiring such 
 help as he is prepared to give. His name and 
 his character, his life and his death fulfill the 
 promise ; " He shall save his people from their 
 sins." Such a salvation we must seek in com- 
 ing to Jesus with sincere hearts. 
 
 It is not simply rescue from punishment, it 
 is a holy life, a life of faith, and love, and obe- 
 dience to God, that we need. This is the heal- 
 ing which the word of Christ alone can give. 
 And every sinner should be ready to say to 
 Christ : "I come to thee for help, that I may 
 get the mastery of my evil heart, that I may 
 lead a holy life, that I may be made whole 
 from this very hour. I ask no earthly gift. I 
 
BETHESDA. 141 
 
 am willing to toil, to wait, and to suffer all the 
 days of my appointed time of trial and of 
 duty, if, at last, I may be with thee, and find 
 my name written in thy book of life." 
 
 We must look to Christ expecting to find 
 help. We cannot trust him too much or too 
 soon. We cannot over estimate his power or 
 his willingness to grant us pardon, peace and 
 salvation. He has died for our redemption, 
 and what can he do more to convince us of his 
 desire to save ? Inquirers for the way of sal 
 vation wait and wonder that they are so long 
 in finding the object of their search, because 
 they do not expect to find it. They are not 
 ready to take the hand which Christ offers 
 them and walk with him, and therefore they 
 are still wandering and in darkness. They 
 are not yet fully resolved to take up the cross 
 at once, trusting that strength will be given 
 them to bear it, and therefore they are bear- 
 ing the heavier burden of their own sins. 
 We must look to Jesus as we look to a tried 
 and faithful friend in time of need, confident 
 that our necessities will touch his heart, and 
 
142 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 that we have only to make known our wants 
 to be sure of his sympathy and support. 
 
 When Jesus entered the crowded porches 
 of Bethesda, he sought out the most hopeless 
 and wretched of all the impotent multitude, 
 and made that helpless creature whole in a 
 momentj that he might inspire all others with 
 confidence in his power to save. We cannot 
 trust such a Saviour too much, or too soon. To 
 be forgiven, to have the dark record of our sins 
 blotted out forever, to be made heirs of eter- 
 nal life, we need no worth of our own ; no hu- 
 man friend can help us ; it is in vain to wait for 
 stronger persuasions, or better opportunities, or 
 holier dispositions. We must go to Christ, and 
 to him alone. We must go to him just as 
 we are, and 'with full confidence in his power 
 to save. He has done all for us, just be- 
 cause we can do nothing for ourselves. He 
 is rich enough to answer all our need. He 
 is merciful enough to forgive all our sins. 
 He desires of us nothing so much as that, 
 we shall be willing to take the crown of life 
 from his own hands. 
 
TABOK. 
 
And it came to pass about an eight days after these sayings, 
 he took Peter and John and James, and went up into a mountain 
 to pray. And as he prayed, the fashion of his countenance was 
 altered, and his raiment was white and glistering. And, behold, 
 there talked with him ewo men, -which were Moses and Elias : 
 who appeared in glory, and spake of his decease which he should 
 accomplish at Jerusalem. LUKE ix. 28-31. 
 
V. 
 
 TABOR. 
 
 HE earthly ministry of our Lord sup- 
 plies three subjects of most profound 
 and commanding interest, to all read- 
 ers of the Gospels ; the miracles, the parables, 
 and the passion. His mighty works arrested 
 attention. His divine instructions disclosed 
 his true character and the object of his mis- 
 sion. His atoning death completed his work 
 and confirmed the truthfulness of all he had 
 spoken. 
 
 The mighty works would have been inex- 
 plicable without the divine word. The perfect 
 life would have been a still greater mystery 
 without the atoning death. Sight was given to 
 the blind, that truth might find entrance to the 
 soul. The cross was borne by the king, that 
 his redeemed subjects might share his crown. 
 This great mystery of suffering is what the 
 
 13 145 
 
146 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 disciples found it hardest to understand. The 
 awful glory of the transfiguration was un- 
 doubtedly displayed to keep alive their feeble 
 faith in him as the Messiah, when once he had 
 begun to teach them that he must be rejected 
 and crucified at Jerusalem. 
 
 He had extended his journeyings northward 
 to the utmost boundaries of Palestine. Out 
 of the reach of Herod and of Caiaphas, with 
 nothing to fear from Jew or Roman, he takes 
 this opportunity to make the terrible announce- 
 ment to his devoted followers, that he must yet 
 go back to Jerusalem and give himself up to 
 die. His hour will come and no earthly hand 
 can stay its approach. The sacrifice was ap- 
 pointed from the foundation of the world, and 
 it must be fulfilled though heaven and earth 
 should pass away. And, to make this declara- 
 tion still more dark and afflicting to his disci- 
 ples, it followed immediately upon the assur- 
 ance that he was the Christ, the Son of the 
 living God. 
 
 He had just told them, in the most solemn 
 and explicit terms, that he would establish his 
 kingdom in the earth so firmly that the gates 
 
TABOR. 147 
 
 of hell should not prevail against it. He had 
 commended Peter for declaring his confidence 
 in his divine character. He had said, that his 
 Father in heaven had made that revelation to 
 the believing disciple. He had claimed the 
 crown and accepted the title of God's anointed 
 Son. And now he says that he must go to Je- 
 rusalem, submit to shame and torture, and be 
 put to death. Now he rebukes Peter with the 
 utmost severity, for daring to hint that such a 
 dreadful thing could not come to pass. After 
 having excited their hopes to the highest pitch, 
 he even goes on to tell them that they too must 
 bear the cross**and suffer shame, or they can 
 never share his glory. His own suffering 
 must be completed in them, and his crucifixion 
 to the world must be perpetuated in the expe- 
 rience of his disciples for all time. 
 
 Six days intervened between the time of 
 making these startling disclosures to his fol- 
 lowers and the transfiguration. To them, the 
 days were full of sadness and perplexity. 
 They had many reasonings with themselves, 
 as they journeyed southward from Cesarea 
 Philippi beside the waters of Merom, and 
 
148 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 along the shores of the sea of Galilee, toward 
 the fatal city, where ignominy and death 
 awaited their Master. As they went on day 
 after day from village to village, and from one 
 province to another, it must have seemed pass- 
 ing strange to them, that he could go, volun- 
 tarily and unbidden, to meet the very doom 
 which would be ruin to all their hopes, and 
 grief to all their hearts. 
 
 They could not venture to remonstrate, or to 
 dissuade him from his purpose; for he had al- 
 ready denounced all such interference as sug- 
 gestions of Satan. They could not renounce 
 all hope that he might yet pro/e himself to be 
 the Son of the Highest, because he was daily 
 putting forth his mighty power in such works 
 as no mere man could do. Their minds were 
 still dazzled and allured by the glory and 
 riches which they hoped to enjoy with him in 
 his earthly kingdom. And yet all the while 
 lie was leading them towards the scene of his 
 rejection and shame, his crucifixion and death. 
 
 Six days are past by them in utter perplex- 
 ity and sorrow. And now the time has come 
 when the disciples must receive some addi- 
 
TABOR. 
 
 149 
 
 tional testimony to the Messiahship of their 
 beloved Master, or they will lose all faith in 
 his divine mission; they will no longer look to 
 him as the one to redeem Israel. 
 
 It is drawing towards .evening. The labor- 
 ers are gathering in from the vineyards and 
 
 the harvest fields, to the villages. The bleat- 
 ing flocks are returning to the folds on the 
 grassy slopes of Tabor. The snowy heights 
 of distant Hermon are reddening in the glow 
 of the setting sun. Mount Carmel casts its 
 lengthening shadows far up the plain of Es- 
 
 13 
 
150 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 draelon The deep silence which settles down 
 upon the solitudes of nature, invites to retire- 
 ment, meditation and prayer. 
 
 And now the Master calls the three favorite 
 disciples to himself, and makes his way out of 
 the noisy town, across the open fields and the 
 wild pasture lands, and up the steep ascent of 
 the mountain. It is a rounded and dome-like 
 elevation, pushed up to a great height, out of 
 the bosom of the plain. The evening cloud 
 sweeps beneath the summit, and the light of 
 the setting sun lingers long upon the top, after 
 it has left the plain below. 
 
 The path first leads through waving fields 
 of golden grain. Then vines and olives cover 
 the terraces of limestone and earth. When 
 the slope grows steeper, thick forests of oak 
 and terebinth conceal the Master and his dis- 
 ciples. 
 
 He has spent the day in travel and in teach- 
 ing, and this mountain climb at night adds a 
 heavy weight to the weariness that demanded 
 rest before the evening came. His hand has 
 lifted the burden of infirmity from many 
 shoulders, and sent the thrill of life into many 
 
TABOR. 151 
 
 a worn and wasted frame. But he himself is 
 as much fatigued with the steep ascent as the 
 impetuous Peter or the gentle John. They do 
 not ask him whither he is going, or for what 
 purpose he leads them away to the solitude of 
 the mountain just as night is setting in, and 
 they all need repose and protection in the 
 homes which they have left behind. They 
 have known him many times to spend the 
 whole night in desert places, or upon lonely 
 mountains in prayer, and they do not need to 
 ask him for what purpose he leads them forth 
 from the noisy crowd or the quiet homes of 
 men at the evening hour. They go because he 
 asks their company; and yet they think it 
 strange that he must needs add this lonely 
 watching in the chill air of night, to the weari- 
 ness and exhaustion of the day. Peter thinks 
 he is beside himself, and he would tell him so 
 if he had not been so recently rebuked and si- 
 lenced for obtruding advice upon his Master. 
 
 They reach the utmost height and look forth 
 upon the world which they have left behind. 
 It is a goodly sight to behold, and such an one 
 as cannot le seen elsewhere in all the Holy 
 
152 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 Land. Far away in the west, the waves of the 
 Mediterranean glow, like molten gold, where 
 the sun has sunk beneath the horizon. North- 
 east, Tiberias, the pearl of seas, lies deep-set 
 among hills, with a changing border of golden 
 tints and purple shadows; now calm, as if 
 still sleeping beneath the spell of the mighty 
 word that spoke peace to its stormy waves. 
 Northward the snows of still loftier mountains 
 look like altar-fires, burning unto the midst of 
 heaven. Nearer, within the sweep of the eye, 
 is the blessed Mount on which Jesus opened 
 the ministry of reconciliation with beatitudes 
 upon the poor, the meek and the merciful. 
 Eastward, the highlands of Gilead and Bashan 
 rise in broken ridges and rounded domes, like 
 the waves of a stormy sea. Southward winds 
 a silvery haze, marking the course where the 
 swift Jordan rushes down its deep and rocky 
 bed. Northwest, Carinel pushes out its bold 
 headland into the sea, clothed with the excel- 
 lency of the forest, and lifting itself up like an 
 altar for the evening sacrifice, as in the day 
 when the priests of Baal cried in vain to the 
 
TABOR. 153 
 
 god of fire to kindle his own offering, and the 
 fire of the I^ord fell at the word of Elijah. 
 
 The road where the prophet ran before the 
 chariot of Ahab, in the face of a driving storm, 
 up the vale of Esdraelon from Carmel to Jez- 
 reel ; the wild hill-track, along which doomed 
 and despairing Saul rode by night, from En- 
 dor, where he had been to seek forbidden 
 knowledge, to Gilboa, where he went to fight 
 and die; the harvest fields, where the only child 
 of the Shunamite received a sun-stroke while 
 watching the reapers ; the stone houses of Shu- 
 nein, where Elisha found the dead child in his 
 own chamber and raised him to life; the hill- 
 town of Nam, where Jesus stopped the funeral 
 procession, and restored the dead son alive to 
 his mother ; despised Nazareth, where the Di- 
 vine Life was hidden for thirty years, and 
 Cana, imbosomed in orchards of pomegranates 
 and reclined on the slope of a hill, where Jesus 
 manifested forth his glory by the beginning of 
 miracles ; all are in sight. Plains of the 
 greatest fertility, scenes of the deepest historic 
 interest, mountains of the wildest and most 
 desolate grandeur in all Palestine, may be seen 
 
154 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 from this one solitary height where Jesus goes 
 apart with his three favored disciples, to spend 
 the night in prayer. 
 
 But not to gaze on the landscape which one 
 might travel half round the globe to see ; not 
 to rest after long and exhausting toil ; not to 
 escape impending danger, has Jesus sought 
 this mountain solitude. He has no bed but 
 the bare earth. The dew falls like rain at 
 evening, and the morning wind will come 
 from perpetual snows. To such a place the 
 Man of sorrows goes to spend the whole night 
 in prayer. And as his supplication continues 
 hour after hour, with strong crying and many 
 tears, the disciples grow weary with watching 
 and they fall asleep. The midnight passes, 
 and they sleep on, forgetful of their waking 
 and agonizing Master. 
 
 He has told them of the great woe that will 
 come upon him before another summer begins. 
 They have only tried to divert his mind from 
 such gloomy anticipations ; and now, when he 
 has taken them aside that they may watch 
 with him while he prays for strength to meet 
 the terrible conflict, they sleep as they slept 
 
TABOR. 155 
 
 again in Gethsemane, leaving him to bear his 
 great agony alone. Their indifference must 
 have been the more distressing to him for the 
 reason that he was praying especially for such 
 a manifestation of his glory before their eyes 
 as would heal their unbelief, and help them 
 to be reconciled to the humiliation and death 
 which awaited him at Jerusalem. 
 
 And the mighty Mediator is not left, to pray 
 unheard. Suddenly, as if the golden gates of 
 heaven had been thrown wide, and the splen- 
 dor of the eternal throne had been poured 
 upon the holy mount, the bending suppliant is 
 clothed with a glory above the brightness of 
 the sun. No longer prostrate in an agony of 
 prayer, he seems to sit enthroned amid the 
 radiance of light ineffable. His countenance 
 wears the aspect of serene and godlike majesty, 
 and his garments shine like the drifted snow 
 beneath the noonday sun. 
 
 The sleeping disciples are wakened by the 
 flood of glory covering the whole mount. 
 Gazing with wonder and alarm upon the shin- 
 ing robes and the changed countenance >f their 
 Master, they see that he is not alone. The 
 
156 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 great lawgiver, who conversed with Jehovah 
 amid the thunders and the darkness of Sinai, 
 and the mighty prophet who was taken up in a 
 chariot of fire, have come down from their 
 heavenly rest to pay their homage to their 
 King, and to talk with him of the appointed 
 completion of his mission, while his disciples 
 sleep. Somehow, strangely, they see at once 
 that it is Moses and Elijah with whom he 
 speaks. And these ancient worthies are fully 
 aware of the awful tragedy to be accomplished 
 at Jerusalem, the announcement of which 
 from the lips of their Master had so greatly 
 tasked their faith and afflicted their hearts. 
 
 The disciples are confused and bewildered 
 by the sudden waking and by the awful vision. 
 They know not what to say, and yet Peter, as 
 usual, feels that he must speak. He repeats 
 substantially, in a milder form, the suggestion 
 for which he had already been severely re- 
 buked by the meek and gentle Master. He 
 proposes that Jesus shall remain at a safe dis- 
 tance from the dangers of Jerusalem and the 
 death of the cross, and set up his throne, for 
 the government of the world, upon that holy 
 
TABOR. 157 
 
 mount, and inaugurate his reign with the 
 splendors with which they are surrounded. 
 
 And while he is yet speaking, the awful 
 cloud of the Shechinah's glory that went 
 before the tribes in the wilderness, overshadows 
 them, and out of the cloud comes the divine 
 voice which had spoken from the tabernacle of 
 Moses and from the temple of Solomon. It 
 sets, at naught the weakness and vanity of all 
 human counsel, and commands attention to the 
 supreme source of wisdom and authority, say- 
 ing, "This is my beloved Son. Hear him." 
 And with that first and final lesson for the 
 interpretation of all mysteries and the attain- 
 ment of all faith, the vision passes. When 
 the disciples, smitten to the ground by the ter- 
 ror of " the voice from the excellent glory," 
 lift up their eyes again, they see no man but 
 Jesus only. 
 
 The morning breaks upon the mountain 
 with a brightness less than the vision of the 
 night, and the returning day reveals a world 
 of sin and suffering where Jesus and his disci- 
 ples must resume the work of instruction and 
 mercy. They have heard his divinity pro- 
 
 14 
 
158 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 claimed by the voice from the unapproachable 
 glory, and now they must follow him, in pa- 
 tience and faith, to the cross and the grave. 
 
 And for what purpose were the disciples 
 called to witness and to record this extraordi- 
 nary scene on the mount of the Transfigura- 
 tion ? Doubtless its full meaning must pass 
 beyond our comprehension, as it did beyond 
 theirs. Nevertheless it teaches some lessons 
 which are as clear and important to us as they 
 were to them. 
 
 It shows the suffering and glorified Re- 
 deemer to be the one object of supreme interest 
 and attraction in the whole revelation of God 
 to man. This meek and lowly Jesus, who, for 
 two years and a half had been going to and fro 
 a homeless wanderer through all Judaea, is 
 disclosed on the holy mount as the son of the 
 Highest, to whom the patriarchs and prophets 
 of the olden time render homage, in whom the 
 mighty spirits of the blessed world recognize 
 their King. The great lawgiver of Israel, 
 after fifteen hundred years of growing know- 
 ledge in the life of heaven, comes down from 
 the mansions of paradise to acknowledge the 
 
TABOR. 159 
 
 divine Prophet and Deliverer, whose coming 
 he had foretold so long ago. Moses himself is 
 seen and heard reverently talking with Jesus 
 of the great event of his crucifixion, in which 
 the inhabitants of earth and heaven have the 
 most profound and awful interest. 
 
 The greatest of all the prophets, whose pres- 
 ence was a terror to kings and whose prayers 
 shut up heaven in the days of Israel's apos- 
 tacy, comes back to acknowledge Jesus as a 
 greater prophet than himself, and to speak of 
 his appointed death in Jerusalem as the great 
 expiation without which there could be no hope 
 for a lost world. This august embassy from 
 the world of spirits, representing all the provi- 
 dences and revelations in the past, and all the 
 sublime intelligence of the redeemed in heaven, 
 appears in glory on the holy mount, to testify, 
 that in Christ, all promises of mercy to man 
 are fulfilled, and that through his death only 
 can there be redemption for the lost. The 
 decease, which Christ was to accomplish at 
 Jerusalem, was already known to the inhabit- 
 ants of heaven. They speak of it as an event 
 which must of necessity take place, and one 
 
160 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 which, in its consequences, would become the 
 wonder of angels and the source of joy and 
 praise to the universe. 
 
 That great event, so dark, so inexplicable, 
 when foretold to the disciples, has now, for 
 eighteen hundred years, become a matter of 
 history, and it is the source of light, of joy 
 and of blessing to millions to-day. The bur- 
 den of sin, crushing the penitent and weary 
 soul, falls at the foot of the cross. The afflicted 
 and sorrowing are all comforted when they look 
 to the cross. The darkness of the grave is 
 scattered by the light which shines from the 
 cross. We can glory and rejoice in every con- 
 dition of life, we can triumph over death, just 
 because the Son of God came down from hea- 
 ven, took upon himself our infirmities, and 
 voluntarily submitted to the sacrifice which his 
 own disciples were most anxious to have him 
 escape. 
 
 He has returned to his heavenly throne with 
 the scars of his earthly conflict still upon him. 
 While worshipped by adoring hosts, he still 
 appears to them as one that has been slain. 
 Our earthly worship will be most like that of 
 
TABOR. 161 
 
 heaven when most we exalt the sin-atoning 
 Lamb. We shall be most sure of joining the 
 society and the song of the blessed when most 
 humbly and fully we trust in a crucified Sa- 
 viour. 
 
 No one will understand the Gospel, who 
 fails to see that the cross is the central source 
 of hope, of life and of exaltation to man. No 
 one will find peace in believing, so long as he 
 is ashamed to bear the cross and follow Christ. 
 No one will appreciate the blessing which the 
 Gospel bestows, until he feels that he can richly 
 and joyfully afford to sacrifice everything else 
 only to win Christ and be found in him. 
 Everything given for Christ enriches the giver, 
 and everything suffered for him increases the 
 final joy. 
 
 The transfiguration shows it to be our first 
 and supreme duty to hear and obey Christ. 
 The voice which gave this command on the 
 holy mount, is the voice that Adam heard in 
 Paradise. It speaks in the inspiration of the 
 Psalms and the Prophets, and it declares our 
 individual duty with the same authority by 
 which the law was given to Moses, and judg- 
 
 14 * 
 
162 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 ments were inflicted by the word of Elijah. 
 It directs every perplexed and doubting mind 
 to Christ, saying evermore, "This is my beloved 
 Son, hear him." It says to the guilty, the 
 wretched and the hopeless, "Behold the Lamb 
 of God that taketh away the sin of the world." 
 It invites the weary and the heavy-laden to 
 look to him for rest. It bids the thoughtless, 
 the impenitent and the disobedient hear his 
 words as he cries, "Except ye repent ye shall 
 all likewise perish." 
 
 The voice of prophecy, the voice of the evan- 
 gelists, the voice of the whole Bible, the voice 
 of providence, the voice of conscience is ever 
 directing to Christ and commanding all to hear 
 and obey him. Christ himself, in his word, 
 and life, and work, is the divine Wisdom 
 which cries to men evermore for their instruc- 
 tion. He speaks alike to the mind that rea- 
 sons, to the heart that feels and to the con- 
 science which responds to the claims of obli- 
 gation. He has a message of duty, of hope 
 and of salvation for every soul. He has a 
 right to command, and yet he condescends to 
 entreat. He has the power to crush, and yet 
 
TABOR. 163 
 
 he waits to be gracious, he longs to forgive. 
 He walked upon the waves; he hushed the 
 storm; he healed the sick; he gave sight to 
 the blind; he raised the dead; and all to show 
 his power, his authority and his willingness to 
 save the soul. 
 
 He still confers the gifts of health and 'in- 
 struction, and Sabbaths, and sanctuaries, and 
 countless providential blessings, that he may 
 make us willing to hear his voice when he 
 speaks of things of infinite and everlasting 
 interest to us all. He would kindle the fee- 
 blest love into deathless flame; he would in- 
 spire the faintest heart with immortal hope. 
 He would make the least and poorest kings 
 unto God. He alone can answer the one ques- 
 tion of greatest moment to every human being 
 in the world, "What must I do to be saved?" 
 
 Jesus himself, the greatest of teachers, the 
 regenerator of the human mind, the Saviour of 
 the human soul, speaks in the language of com- 
 mon life. He communicates the lessons of 
 heavenly wisdom in such terms as appeal to 
 the experience and necessities of all. He 
 adapts his instruction to all times and places, 
 
164 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 to all classes and conditions of men. The 
 humble synagogue without a seat, the fishing 
 boat rocking on the wave, the sand of the sea- 
 shore, the greensward of the mountain-side, 
 the solitude of the desert, the highway 
 thronged with travelers, the princely mansion 
 crowded with guests, the private house where 
 the homeless wanderer rests for the night, the 
 streets and public squares of the city, the 
 sacred courts of the temple with men coming 
 and going all the while, are his places of 
 preaching and the pulpit from which he pro- 
 claims truths to shake the world. 
 
 He speaks always upon the greatest themes 
 that can ever engage the mind of man, and yet 
 he presents them in such a form as to instruct 
 the loftiest intellect and interest the feeblest 
 understanding. An honest desire to know the 
 way of life is the best qualification to learn of 
 him who spake as never man spake. Become 
 as a little child, conscious of weakness and 
 willing to be instructed, and you will easily 
 learn from the divine Teacher a higher wisdom 
 than was ever taught in the most renowned 
 schools of human philosophy. Receive the 
 
TABOR. 165 
 
 word of Christ as a personal message to your 
 own heart ; appropriate to yourself the merits 
 of his death as fully as if you were the only 
 sinner in the world for whom he died, and you 
 will easily learn how to be saved. 
 
 It is the first duty and the highest honor of 
 the preacher to stand and point the way to 
 Jesus, and say, "Behold the Lamb of God, 
 who taketh away the sin of the world." 
 Everything in his manner and thought and 
 speech and life, should be a living interpreta- 
 tion of the voice from the excellent glory, 
 " This is my beloved Son, hear ye him." The 
 highest recommendation of the gospel from hu- 
 man lips, is that which most clearly presents 
 Christ lifted up on the cross as the supreme 
 object of attraction and desire, drawing all 
 men unto himself. It is in hearing Christ that 
 we display the highest wisdom ; it is in follow- 
 ing Christ that we choose the noblest part ; it 
 is in obeying Christ that we secure our eternal 
 salvation. 
 
 The transfiguration shows how intimate the 
 relation which exists between this every day 
 life of ours and the spiritual world. Jesus 
 
166 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 and his three disciples had talked and traveled 
 and wearied themselves on the day preceding 
 the ascent of the holy mount, just as we work 
 and weary ourselves in our daily occupations. 
 The mountain which they climbed at evening, 
 was high and steep and cold, shadowed by 
 clouds, bathed in sun-light, swept by storms, 
 shrouded in darkness, just like the mountains 
 which we have seen, just like the hills which 
 we have climbed. When the night came on, 
 the landscape of vineyards and fields and vil- 
 lages beneath them faded into darkness ; the 
 olemn stars looked down from the silent sky, 
 and the earth and rocks beneath them were wet 
 with dews, just as the night now comes in des- 
 ert places. 
 
 And yet it was to them, on that lonely 
 height, living, breathing men like ourselves, 
 that there appeared from the spiritual world 
 other men who had lived a thousand years 
 before. These men, Moses and Elijah, ap- 
 peared so truly the same that they were cen- 
 turies before, that the disciples knew them sim- 
 ply from having read their history. They did 
 not seem to have come from afar. The glory 
 
TABOR. 167 
 
 that burst forth from the person of Jesus ap- 
 peared only to have shown the disciples a pres- 
 ence that was with them unseen before: The 
 veil was lifted from their eyes and they saw 
 with what companionship they were sur- 
 rounded, and in the midst of what unseen and 
 glorious presences they were walking wherever 
 they went in the company of Jesus. And so 
 the peculiar manner in which Jesus is said by 
 the evangelists to have shown himself to his 
 disciples after his resurrection, implies that he 
 was already with them and it was only neces- 
 sary for their eyes to be opened to behold him 
 in the midst of their company. 
 
 To all who believe in Jesus now, there are 
 times when it seems as if the spiritual world 
 were all around them, and they can almost feel 
 the touch of unseen hands, extended to lead 
 them on in safety, when perils and difficulties 
 beset the way. Sometimes they feel themselves 
 to be covered by the overshadowing of angels' 
 wings, and ministered unto by the presence 
 and sympathies of unseen comforters. The 
 chamber of death, where the disciple of Jesus 
 dies, sometimes seems to shine with an un- 
 
168 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 earthly light, to catch the sound of heavenly 
 harmonies, to be kept, through the long hours 
 of weariness and pain, by unseen watchers. 
 
 There may be something of fancy in all this. 
 But it is nevertheless good for us to believe, 
 that the realities of the unseen world are very 
 near, and that the departed disciples of Jesus 
 are in active sympathy with those, whose sea- 
 son of trial and of temptation is not yet closed. 
 In every sacrifice we make for Jesus, in every 
 burden we bear for him, it is good for us to feel 
 that we are serving a King, whose face our be- 
 loved and blessed dead are permitted to behold, 
 and with whom they speak in reverent and 
 holy communion, as Moses and Elijah talked 
 with him on the mount of the Transfiguration. 
 And so may we cultivate in our hearts a purer 
 and a more constant longing, ourselves also to 
 appear with him in glory on the holy mount 
 of Paradise. 
 
 The Transfiguration teaches us that the lof- 
 tiest visions of faith and joy, are given to fit 
 us for the struggles and temptations of our 
 daily life. From the mount of the excellent 
 glory, from the midst of the opened heavens, 
 
TABOR. 169 
 
 and the companionship of the blessed, Jesus 
 went down to a world of tears and sufferings, 
 to renew his struggle with the unbelief and 
 perversity of men, to take up again the burden 
 of their guilt and sorrow, and bear it to the 
 cross and the grave. 
 
 These two utmost extremes of glory and of 
 grief, the heavenly transfiguration and the 
 earthly toil and sorrow, are combined in one 
 representation by Raphael, in his last and 
 greatest work, many would say the greatest 
 painting of all masters and of all times, on 
 which the world has gazed with wonder and 
 admiration for three hundred years. Christ 
 himself is seen on the mount, radiant with 
 light, reposing in serene and gentle majesty 
 upon the viewless air, as he once walked upon 
 the wave. There has been but one human 
 hand, that could represent to the eye, such be- 
 nignity and grace, sucn effulgence of glory as 
 shine in that wondrous countenance. Moses 
 and Elijah are rapt in ecstacies of love and 
 adoration, as they gaze upon the living and 
 embodied radiance of love divine. Beneath, 
 the three disciples, shielding their eyes with 
 
 15 
 
170 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 their hands from the blinding splendor poured 
 from the person of their Master, have fallen 
 upon the ground, unable to look on his face, 
 and yet less able to cease from gazing. 
 
 At the foot of the mount is seen the lunatic 
 child, with distorted and deathlike countenance, 
 gnashing his teeth and convulsed with agony ; 
 the father imploring help from the disciples, 
 the mother seconding the appeal, with the 
 pangs of a broken heart in every look, the 
 scribes cavilling, the physicians closing the 
 books which they have consulted in vain for a 
 cure, and the disciples themselves perplexed 
 and in despair. 
 
 And all this unbelief and helplessness, this 
 suffering and sorrow among men, at the very 
 foot of the mountain, on which the Son of God 
 is revealed in glory, to take on himself the 
 burdens and iniquities of a lost world. The 
 great master of pictorial representation, vio- 
 lates some of the minor rules of his art, for the 
 sake of securing a higher moral effect. He 
 presents the divine glory of the Redeemer and 
 the guilt and misery of man, in one view, that 
 the silent lesson of the twofold scene, may 
 
TABOR. 171 
 
 encourage all the wretched and sinful to look 
 up for help, and that it may teach all who share 
 in the vision of faith and joy, to come down 
 from the lofty heights of devotion and commu- 
 nion with Christ, to instruct the ignorant, to 
 help the needy and to save the lost. 
 
 It is good, at times, to put the wickedness 
 and the misery of the world, at the farthest 
 possible remove from our thoughts, and give 
 ourselves wholly, to the peace and blessedness, 
 with which the presence of Christ fills the be- 
 lieving heart. It is good to retire from the 
 busy scenes of life, and gaze with wonder and 
 adoration, upon the glory of Christ, and feast 
 the soul with the raptures of assured faith and 
 perfect love. 
 
 But the " vision of the King," and the fore- 
 taste of heaven will not come at our bidding. 
 It is in the common walks of duty, that we are 
 most sure of meeting Jesus in the way. The 
 lowliest home may receive angel guests, and 
 the most weary pilgrim may drink of the foun- 
 tain of life. There are toils and conflicts and 
 self-denials for us all to meet. There must 
 needs be tears and sorrows for many sins: 
 
172 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 struggles and watchings for the mastery of 
 depraved desires and dispositions, offerings and 
 consecrations, submissions and sacrifices that 
 seem like taking the life blood from the heart. 
 There must be persevering effort to do good, 
 and patient waiting for success, and earnest 
 supplication for others, that will not give them 
 up to be lost. 
 
 And when by such steps we have climbed 
 the holy mount of faith, and seen the face of 
 Jesus in his glory, we must go again into all 
 the haunts and homes of men to testify of the 
 vision, that others may be drawn to see its 
 light and share its joy. The purest and loftiest 
 devotion, is that which breathes forth in the 
 most earnest desire and effort to bring all souls 
 to Jesus, and to secure the salvation of all 
 through him. The glory of the Transfiguration 
 is a passing gleam of heaven's light, cast upon 
 the pathways of earth, to draw our hearts to 
 that land, where there is no night, and to that 
 home where there are no tears. 
 
JERICHO. 
 
As he went out of Jericho with his disciples and a great num- 
 ber of people, blind Bartimceus, the son of Timoeus, sat by the 
 highway-side begging And when he heard that it was Jesus of 
 Nazareth, he began to cry out, and say, Jesus, thou son of David, 
 have mercy on me. MARK x. 46, 47. 
 
ANCIENT CASTLE NEAT? JERICHO. 
 
 T Jericho, outside of the city gate, on 
 the road leading to Jerusalem, and 
 consequently most thronged with trav- 
 elers, sits the blind Bartimseus, begging. The 
 poorest of the many poor who cry for bread in 
 all the cities and highways of Judea, he has 
 
 175 
 
176 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 blindness added to poverty, that his cup of 
 misery may run over. To him the whole of 
 life is one long deep night, to which there is 
 no return of morn, no visitation from the glory 
 and the gladness of God's blessed light. There 
 is no flower in all the fields which opens on 
 him with its eye of beauty; he sees no smile 
 of pity or of recognition in the " human face 
 divine." The heavens above him are one thick 
 cloud, through which no star shines ; the earth, 
 spread out for other eyes to behold, with all 
 its gladdening hills, and grassy plains, and 
 laughing streams, to him is nothing but solid 
 and substantial darkness. 
 
 Placed in the midst of a landscape as va- 
 rious and enchanting as any on which the sun 
 shines in all its course, he lives in the midst of 
 a darkness which shuts him in as with an im- 
 penetrable wall on every side. Whether morn- 
 ing comes on golden wings from the gorgeous 
 East, or the sun flames from his mid- day 
 throne, or evening brings forth its troop of 
 stars upon the plains of heaven, it is all night 
 to him. His darkened eye-balls roll in vain 
 to find the lost day. His imprisoned soul 
 
JERICHO. 177 
 
 yearns in vain to find some way out of the 
 thick gloom and the shadow of death with 
 which he is surrounded. 
 
 It has not always been so with nim ; for he 
 could once see. And the remembrance of the 
 beauty and the glory with which God covers 
 the hills of Judea in the blossoming spring 
 and the ripening summer, and which he could 
 once behold, deepens, by contrast, the darkness 
 with which he is surrounded. And, what adds 
 greatly to his misery, he has been taught by 
 the doctrines and traditions of his countrymen, 
 that blindness has been inflicted upon him in 
 distinction from the rest of men, as an especial 
 judgment for his sins. He must believe that 
 the great Father of light, whose smile fills the 
 universe with beauty and with blessing, only 
 frowns on him with the thick clouds of his 
 anger. The ignorant peasant and the learned 
 priest alike tell him that it is for his sins that 
 he has been left to grope his way to the grave, 
 which cannot be darker than the sightless sep- 
 ulchre in which his soul is already buried. 
 
 And there he sits in such a case, feeling his 
 way by the wall, as he comes every morning, 
 
178 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 depending on others to tell him when it is 
 night, uncertain whether his wretched condi- 
 tion, and his supplicating cry, will stir enough 
 of pity in the passing traveler, to secure him 
 the means of prolonging his miserable life. 
 Many pass without bestowing on him the piti- 
 ful boon of a morsel of food or a word of kind- 
 ness. Many times the only alleviation which 
 he obtains from the proud priest and the 
 prouder Pharisee, is the severe and self-right- 
 eous assertion, that it becomes not man to bless 
 with charity one whom God has cursed for his 
 sins. Many times the idle vagabond, as 
 wretched as himself, in everything but blind- 
 ness, pauses a moment in passing to make 
 mirth of his misery. 
 
 And so he must be looked upon by others, 
 and he must look upon himself, while life lasts, 
 as a living monument of heaven's vengeance 
 on all transgressors of its sacred laws ; himself 
 a more pitiable and afflicting desolation than 
 the blasted plain of Sodom, towards which the 
 swift Jordan flows within sight of his native 
 city. There is no power in the touch or the 
 skill of the physician, to restore to his dark- 
 
JERICHO. 179 
 
 ened eye-balls their lost sensibility to heaven's 
 light. No human hand can draw back the 
 thick veil with which blindness has covered 
 the universe to him as with the pall of death. 
 
 And yet within the last two years, from time 
 to time, a most strange and exciting report has 
 come to his ears. Occasionally some one 
 passer-by, more kindly and commiserating 
 than the rest, has paused by his side, and in 
 addition to his trifling gift, has delayed to tell 
 him of One possessing the power to open the 
 eyes of the blind with a single word. He 
 hears that that wonderful personage is ever 
 going from city to city, in other portions of 
 Judea, performing such miraculous cures for 
 the afflicted, and even raising the dead to life. 
 Of late the fame of his mighty works has come 
 nearer, and has been accredited by more nu- 
 merous witnesses. And blind Bartimaeus, ever 
 sitting by the way-side, begging, has even be- 
 gun to hope that the Friend of the friendless 
 might some day pass in or out at the gate of 
 Jericho, and in passing, graciously pour the 
 light of day again on him. 
 
 Often has he thought that he would gladly 
 
180 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 travel to the utmost boundary of Palestine, if 
 he could thus secure the opportunity, for one 
 moment, to lift up his supplicating cry for help 
 within the hearing of the divine Deliverer. 
 All the riches in the world would be as nothing 
 to him in comparison with one word of healing 
 power from that mighty and merciful friend of 
 the needy. He begins to suspect that this 
 extraordinary person may be the promised Son 
 of David, the Deliverer of Israel, of whom the 
 Prophet spoke ; and what interests him still 
 more, he is said to be the Friend of sinners ; 
 he seeks the guilty and the outcast ; he speaks 
 to them with words of kindness and encourage- 
 ment, and freely displays his miraculous power 
 in their behalf. 
 
 Be it so, then, as he has been often told, that 
 his blindness is the curse of God on him for 
 his sins; still, in the Friend of sinners he 
 might venture to hope. He would not be 
 spurned by one who cleansed the loathsome 
 leper of an uncleanness which corrupted the 
 body, because it had first polluted the soul. 
 He would not be scorned by one who cast out 
 the foul spirit from those who had been pos- 
 
JERICHO. 181 
 
 sessed by the demons of darkness for their 
 wickedness. He who never shrunk from con- 
 tact with the vilest, if by approaching them he 
 could do them good surely he would not say 
 of blind Bartimaeus, " Behold one cursed of 
 God for his sins," and shaking his garments, 
 pass on his way more rapidly to avoid the 
 sight and the touch of such pollution. 
 
 And yet, often as he has listened with eager 
 attention to the tales told him, by delaying 
 travelers, of the mighty works done by Jesus 
 of Nazareth, he has only thus learned the more 
 bitterly and hopelessly to deplore his still con- 
 tinued blindness. He has long listened in vain 
 for any announcement from the passing multi- 
 tude that Jesus is among them. He has no 
 kind friend to take him by the hand, and lead 
 him away to those favored portions of Judea, 
 where the Friend of sinners may be found 
 ready to heal the humblest applicant for his 
 aid. He can do naught but sit here by the 
 gate of Jericho with the feeble and uncertain 
 hope that perchance the Prophet of Nazareth 
 may pass that way and have compassion on 
 him. 
 
 16 
 
182 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 And so it comes to pass at last that on a cer- 
 tain day, blind Bartimreus hears the sound of 
 an unusual multitude and the murmur of many 
 voices pressing along the public way, and com- 
 ing near the gate of the city where he sits. 
 And when he inquires the meaning of the 
 strange sound, he is told that " Jesus of Naza- 
 reth passeth by." Now, then, at last has come 
 his first, it may be his last opportunity to 
 recover his lost sight. Now, if ever, must the 
 pall of darkness be lifted from him, and he 
 shall behold again the magnificence of the blue 
 heavens, and the beauty of the green earth, 
 and he shall read again in the silent looks of 
 the human face the unutterable things of the 
 soul. 
 
 How priceless the value of the single oppor- 
 tunity presented to blind Bartimseus by the 
 passing of Jesus of Nazareth this one day. 
 The mighty Helper of the needy is within hear- 
 ing but a few moments, and when gone may 
 never return again. How much deeper will be 
 the darkness of future years to the blind, if 
 he shall have it to remember that once his eyes 
 might have been opened, but he failed to ask. 
 
JERICHO. 183 
 
 And yet it may cost something to gain a gift 
 which may be had for asking. This man has 
 been named and pointed at with horror by the 
 most religious of his countrymen as accursed of 
 God. And shall he presume that the holy 
 prophet of Nazareth will be more indulgent to- 
 wards his sins than his friends and neighbors ? 
 May it not be that the reports which have come 
 to his ears, concerning the healing power of 
 Jesus, are all exaggerations? If he asks so 
 strange a thing as that his eyes may be opened, 
 will it not expose him to the mockery of the mul- 
 titude, and so deprive him of the meagre support 
 which comes from their pity and charity? 
 Were it not wiser to improve this opportunity, 
 only to make more careful inquiry concerning 
 Jesus, and if satisfactory evidence of his divine 
 power and benignity should be secured, be 
 prepared at another time to seek his aid? 
 The most learned and religious of his country- 
 men have said that this Jesus is a deceiver and 
 a fanatic. If he should ask the performance 
 of a miraculous work from such an one, would 
 he not renounce faith in God, and bring on 
 himself a worse evil than blindness ? 
 
184 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 Thus, a cautious and distrustful man might 
 easily have spent, in hesitancy or considera- 
 tion, the few moments while Jesus was passing, 
 and so lost forever an opportunity, which, 
 when gone, he would give everything in the 
 world to gain once more. There is no madness 
 like that which pauses to reason, when the des- 
 tiny of the soul depends upon immediate and 
 decisive action. 
 
 But blind Bartimseus, at the gate of Jericho, 
 is guilty of no such considerate folly as this. 
 He wastes no time in studying proprieties of 
 speech or attitudes of supplication. It is 
 enough for him to know that Jesus of Nazareth 
 passeth by. He asks only for such help as can 
 be given to the guilty, for he asks for mercy. 
 He assumes, safely and unhesitatingly, that the 
 mercy of Jesus will be enough for him. And 
 he lifts up his cry with a determination that 
 will not be put to silence by the rebukes of the 
 multitude, or the apparent inattention of Jesus 
 himself. 
 
 When told, at last, that Jesus stops in the 
 way and calls him, he rises, casts aside his 
 garment, that he may be the freer to run, 
 
JERICHO. 185 
 
 rushes in his blindness without waiting to be 
 led in the direction of the divine Helper whom 
 he cannot see. He is ready to risk everything, 
 only to hear one word of hope from that voice 
 which can speak the dead to life. And when 
 told to name the act of mercy which he would 
 have done for him, he shows the strength of 
 his faith by asking that which divine power 
 alone can do. 
 
 And, as of old, there was needed only one 
 omnific word, and light sprang into being; so 
 Jesus speaks the word "SEE," and blind Bar- 
 timseus receives his sight, and follows him in 
 the way, praising and rejoicing! That one 
 word of Jesus rolls back the darkness with 
 which the universe had been covered to the 
 blind, and creates for him a new world of light 
 and life, and surpassing glory. The long night 
 of years is past, and the resplendent noon of 
 recovered sight has flashed upon him, without 
 waiting for the slow approaches of the break- 
 ing day. 
 
 And now he sees, not simply with the re- 
 stored sensibility of the bodily eye, but with 
 "the vision and faculty divine" of faith in the 
 
 16* 
 
186 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 Son of God. The restored world on which he 
 now looks with unutterable joy, is to him not 
 simply the one which he lost with the loss of 
 sight. In the ecstacy of his new joy it seems 
 to him as if it were Paradise restored. The 
 sunlight rests upon it with a glorious and lov- 
 ing beauty, as if it were the smile of God on 
 pronouncing his new creation very good, and 
 its many voices sound, to the recovered blind 
 man, like the echo of that one word of Jesus 
 by which his eyes were opened. The power of 
 that mighty word has poured light upon the 
 soul as well as upon the eye ; the infinite love 
 which gave it utterance has set up its throne in 
 his heart, and made him a new creature in the 
 image of God. 
 
 He can now find nothing but mercy in the 
 awful affliction which he had been taught to 
 regard only as a curse. For it has been by the 
 blindness of the eye that spiritual light has 
 found entrance to the darker chambers of the 
 soul. Were he now to lose again, beyond re- 
 covery, the sight of the bodily eye, still so 
 much the more would the celestial light of the 
 divine love shine riward upon the soul, and he 
 
JERICHO. 187 
 
 would still continue to live in a new spiritual 
 creation, illumined all over with heaven's holy 
 light. And all this blessed experience of un- 
 utterable joy, this deliverance from a universe 
 of darkness and a destiny of despair, bestowed 
 upon one poor benighted and most afflicted 
 soul, in answer to his first believing prayer 
 unto Him who is the light of the world. 
 
 We see no more the face of the Son of Man. 
 No tidings come to tell us of his mighty works 
 in any land. No curious multitude gather to 
 hear him in desert places, or in the busy 
 streets. No voices are heard by the way- side 
 or at city gates, saying, "Jesus of Nazareth 
 passeth by." And yet, for all the practical 
 purposes of his redeeming work, Christ is still 
 in the world. He still walks unseen through 
 all our streets; he comes on the message of 
 mercy to all our homes; he stands ready to 
 breathe his loving Spirit into every heart. He 
 is ever passing by in the ministrations of his 
 grace, with the power to deliver all souls from 
 the darkness of unbelief, and <from the destiny 
 of despair. The deep sense of need which no 
 riches of the earth can relieve; the sigh of 
 
188 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 penitence which never finds utterance on the 
 lip ; the longing for peace which the world can 
 never satisfy, are all known to him. By such 
 experiences, he puts to every soul the question 
 which he put to the blind at the gate of Jeri- 
 cho, "What wilt thou that I should do unto 
 thee?" 
 
 The gospel of Jesus, from beginning to end, 
 is pervaded with the one distinctive and con- 
 trolling idea, help for the needy, light for the 
 blind, redemption for the lost. And Jesus 
 himself comes, in all the ministrations of his 
 Spirit and his word, to bring this freely offered 
 grace, this full and everlasting salvation, within 
 reach of every soul. No human tongue can 
 describe, no finite mind can conceive the value 
 of one opportunity to sit where Jesus of Naza- 
 reth passeth by. How great then the privi- 
 lege of those to whom that mighty Helper 
 comes, morning, evening, and at noon of day, 
 saying, "What wilt thou that I should do unto 
 thee?" 
 
 Along all the highways of life, there are 
 many blind, groping for the lost day, and find- 
 ing it not. Blind to their own interest, they 
 
JERICHO. 189 
 
 gather dust with their busy hands, and think 
 themselves rich. Blind to their own danger, 
 they walk upon the brink of perdition, and 
 think it safe. Blind to their own happiness, 
 they lay up for themselves regret and sorrow, 
 and call it pleasure. Blind to their own con- 
 duct, they disown and dishonor the greatest 
 Friend they have in the universe, and say 
 we mean no harm, we have done no wrong. 
 Blind to their own destiny, they live for earth 
 and time alone, and leave the endless future to 
 take care of itself. To all the higher interests 
 of the soul, to all the blessed and glorious 
 prospects of life beyond the grave, the anxious, 
 burdened, gain-seeking children of this world, 
 are utterly blind. They labor for that which 
 satisfieth not ; they spend their money for that 
 which is not bread ; they strive in vain to con- 
 tent themselves with pleasures and possessions 
 which must perish when their real existence 
 has only just begun. 
 
 To them in such a condition, Jesus comes. 
 He offers to do for them that which they need 
 most to have done ; to bestow on them a bless- 
 ing which all the treasures of the earth would 
 
190 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 not be rich enough to buy : to give them a 
 peace and a hope which would be infinite gain 
 if it cost them the toils and the sufferings of a 
 whole life. In their dark and unsatisfactory 
 condition, having no hope and without Grod in 
 the world, they seldom think how often Jesus 
 of Nazareth passeth by ; how often he stands 
 before them in the ways, ready to pour the 
 light of heaven's peace and joy and rest into 
 their weary souls. Not only is the offer of his 
 grace constant and free ; it is often pressed 
 upon reason with arguments of mighty power ; 
 it is often urged home upon conscience with 
 the solemnity of eternal judgment to confirm 
 the appeal, insomuch that one must be utterly 
 hardened in his worldliness and unbelief not 
 to cry out with a bursting heart, "Jesus, Lord, 
 have mercy on me." 
 
 Sometimes he touches the heart with a new 
 tenderness to the appeals of his own word; 
 sometimes he quickens the feeling of obligation 
 into new life ; sometimes he burdens the soul 
 with the utter wretchedness of living and dy- 
 ing without a Saviour ; and in all such experi- 
 ences, he comes especially nigh. Whoever 
 
JERICHO. 191 
 
 permits such a tenderness of heart to the 
 power of truth to subside into coldness and in- 
 difference, commits a greater wrong against 
 himself than he would if he should decline the 
 offer of the highest crown on earth. 
 
 When God's afflicting providence darkens 
 the household with the shadow of death, and 
 the grave takes to its cold bosom one that was 
 bound to the living with the strongest bonds 
 of love, then the suffering Saviour comes with 
 the offer of his own divine sympathy to heal 
 the deepest sorrow, and to make the sorest be- 
 reavement the greatest blessing. Whoever, 
 in such bereavement, looks only to man for 
 consolation, or plunges into the vortex of 
 business or pleasure to dissipate his grief, 
 turns away from the only Friend who can give 
 peace to the soul. 
 
 When disappointment reveals the vanity of 
 all earthly things; when the fear of death 
 passes like a shadow over the spirit; when 
 preparation for eternity seems for the moment 
 the first and the only true work of life, then is 
 Jesus of Nazareth passing by; then is the door 
 of the kingdom of heaven thrown open for the 
 
192 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 weary to enter and find rest. Nobody can tell 
 how common or trifling a circumstance the 
 Divine Spirit may employ to show men their 
 need of redemption, and the nearness of him 
 who alone can save. 
 
 It may be a solitary thought that takes pos- 
 session of the mind in a wakeful hour at mid- 
 night; it may be a tone, a look, a word sud- 
 denly armed with a mysterious and irresistible 
 power to sway the heart and to control every 
 feeling ; it may be the repetition of an argu- 
 ment, a warning, a cry of alarm which has 
 been heard a hundred times before without 
 effect ; it may be the remembrance of slighted 
 counsel faithfully given in other years, or the 
 vivid anticipation of an hour when counsel can 
 no longer be of any avail ; any, or all such 
 circumstances, and a thousand others, may be 
 the voice which says, "Jesus of Nazareth pass- 
 eth by." To have been drawn to Christ by one 
 such influence ; to have had one clear, strong 
 impression of his nearness and willingness to 
 save, is a blessing of more value than all the 
 riches and pleasures and glories of earth and 
 time 
 
JERICHO. 193 
 
 And shall any one suffer such blessed influ- 
 ences to come and go as if they were trifles 
 light as air ? Nay, rather let all to whom the 
 message of life comes, tenderly cherish every 
 impression from any source which deepens the 
 sense of need, and at the same time awakens 
 the conviction that Christ is near to save. 
 
 The slightest inclination to heed the high 
 claims of religion, to lay hold on the offered 
 inheritance of eternal life, is too sacred and 
 precious a thing to be trifled with for a 
 moment. No question better deserves the 
 attention of an earnest man than this one, 
 "What shall I do to be saved?" They are 
 only voices of temptation and falsehood which 
 would hush that inquiry by saying, " Why so 
 much alarmed ? what need of fear when there 
 is no sign of danger ? Life is long, the plea- 
 sures and cares of the present are enough, with- 
 out burdening the heart with anxiety for the 
 future. And, besides, the Saviour is always 
 near, and peace with Grod can better be made 
 in the dying hour." 
 
 Many such voices will come to bid the anx- 
 ious inquirer " hold his peace." But they are 
 
 17 
 
194 
 
 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 false. They never satisfy. They can never 
 save. They can be listened to only at the peril 
 of the soul. They can be obeyed only at the 
 hazard of eternal life. If it were the last 
 counsel given to a troubled, sin-burdened soul, 
 upon the very borders of the eternal world, in 
 full view of the account which the living and 
 the dying must give to Grod, nothing less than 
 this could be said, " Go to Jesus, and without 
 delay. Whoever bids you hold your peace, 
 whatever hindrances keep you back, go to 
 Jesus, and without delay." 
 
UETHANY 
 
Bethany was nigh unto Jerusalem, about fifteen furlongs off. 
 And he -went out of the city into Bethany an<l lodged there. Now 
 a certain man was sn,k, named Lazarus, of Bethany, the to^in of 
 Mary and her sister Martha. JOHN xi. 1-18: MATT. xxi. 17. 
 
VII. 
 
 BETHANY 
 
 HALF hour's walk eastward from the 
 wall of Jerusalem, across the Kidron 
 valley, past Gethsemane and over the 
 ridge of Olivet, brings one to Bethany. All 
 the way the eye rests upon scenes which Jesus 
 saw ; the foot treads upon ground once hallowed 
 
 17* 
 
198 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 by the blessed feet of the Son of God. In all 
 his visits to Jerusalem, he entered the city in 
 the morning, spent the day in works of in- 
 struction and mercy, and then at evening, went 
 out to find a congenial home for the night, on 
 the mount of Olives. Sometimes he rested at 
 the house of a friend, among the orchards and 
 gardens on the western slope facing the city. 
 And then he would often spend the late hours 
 of the night in the open air, alone, or in tender 
 communion with his favorite disciples. Some- 
 times he would pass over the ridge to the east- 
 ern descent, to find a ready welcome at one fa- 
 vored house, in this lonely mountain village 
 of Bethany. 
 
 Here he was more completely shut out from 
 all the world. The steep wall of the moun- 
 tain rose up between him and the city. The 
 wild and desolate hamlet itself stood upon a 
 rugged platform of rock. The slopes around 
 were faced with broad ledges of naked lime- 
 stone, and scattered fragments of gray rock, in- 
 terspersed here and there with silvery olive 
 and dark green fig-trees. The outlook east- 
 ward was through a narrow glen, down the 
 
BETHANY. 199 
 
 dreary and dangerous road to Jericho, and over 
 the desolate wilderness of Judea, and across 
 the wild gorge of the Jordan, with the rocky 
 wall of the mountains of Moab beyond. The 
 little village was crowded close upon the side 
 of a narrow glen ; an intervening ridge cut off 
 the view of the top of Olivet from behind, 
 and beyond there was not a sign of a human 
 dwelling in sight in any direction. 
 
 This secluded and solitary town was not 
 known to history, till it became the nightly 
 resting-place of our Lord; but it was so inti- 
 mately connected with the closing scenes of 
 his earthly life, that Bethany shall be a name 
 of peace and of blessing, long as the Gospel 
 lives in the world. Taking the inspired re- 
 cord for our guide, let us retire to this lonely 
 mountain village, and revive the sacred memo- 
 ries which gather around the home where Jesus 
 came as a welcome guest. 
 
 1. THE NAME. 
 
 The first that we know of the town, it is 
 mentioned as the home of the family that 
 Jesus loved; and to this day, it bears the 
 
200 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 name of one whom Jesus raised from the dead, 
 Even in his time, the sacred historian gave 
 the village its most lasting and honorable dis- 
 tinction, by naming it from the single house 
 where Jesus lodged at night. That lonely 
 rock-built hamlet, walled in by the mountain, 
 and looking forever upon the desert, shall have 
 a blessed memorial through all coming ages, 
 because one of its humble homes afforded shel- 
 ter and hospitality to him who had not where 
 to lay his head. 
 
 We make pilgrimages to the birth-place of 
 heroes. We count it a privilege to visit the 
 walks and groves once frequented by the sages 
 and masters in the world's philosophy. We 
 look with awe upon the sculptured tomb where 
 the dust of kings and conquerors is kept with 
 religious veneration. We walk in silence and 
 deep thought over the field where embattled 
 nations met in the shock of arms, and the 
 earthly destiny of millions was determined in 
 a day. But neither sage, nor hero, nor king, 
 nor battle could confer upon any place such 
 sacred and lasting distinction as Bethany re- 
 
BETHANY. 201 
 
 ceived from the house where Jesus went to rest 
 at night. 
 
 The great events of time are objects of inte- 
 rest to the heavenly host. They know, better 
 than we do, the scenes of earth around which 
 cluster the most sacred and awful associations. 
 As they pass from land to land and from 
 nation to nation, with the swiftness of light, 
 upon errands of judgment and of mercy, they 
 learn a truer geography of great events than 
 is ever taught in earthly schools. But we can 
 hardly think of them as saying to each other, 
 " In such a town was born the conqueror of 
 nations, whose phalanx swept the armies of 
 the East as withered leaves are swept before 
 the storm ; on this ruin -covered hill the Caesars 
 kept their imperial state ; beneath yonder dome 
 rest the ashes of one, the thunder of whose can- 
 non echoed from the Nile to the Niemen, to 
 the march of whose legions all Europe trem- 
 bled for twenty years." 
 
 It is a matter of far deeper interest to them, 
 to trace the earthly steps of that mighty King 
 who veiled the glory of heaven beneath the 
 garb of a peasant and who asked entertain 
 
202 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 ment for a night from creatures whom his own 
 power had made. In their better judgment of 
 the historic past, and the endless future in 
 man's destiny, it is a fact of more fearful 
 meaning, that a certain house in a lonely 
 mountain village received the Son of God as 
 a familiar and welcome guest. 
 
 Christ himself has gone back to his hea- 
 venly throne. But his spirit, enshrined and in- 
 carnate in his disciples, walks abroad through 
 all the earth, and hallows for them the lowliest 
 habitations. He shares the cave, the hovel, the 
 dungeon, with those who suffer for his sake, and 
 their places of abode, though unwritten in the 
 world'3 geography, are inscribed in letters of 
 light upon the enduring records of heaven. 
 The inhabitants of other worlds shall visit the 
 homes where the disciples of Jesus lived and 
 suffered and died on this earth, when the pala- 
 ces of kings and the monuments of heroes are 
 forgotten. 
 
 There is many a miserable garret, many a 
 damp cellar in the great city, many a lonely 
 cabin in the open country, where God's mighty 
 angels are daily visitants, because the Son of 
 
BETHANY. 203 
 
 God has been there before them to bless some 
 poor, suffering disciple, and his presence has 
 made the humblo abode more glorious in their 
 estimate, than all the splendors of earthly 
 state. 
 
 Sometimes the princely mansion entertains 
 the divine Guest in its meanest apartment, 
 simply because some poor, tired servant, late 
 at night, climbs up the many-storied stairs, 
 and before lying down to rest consecrates that 
 narrow chamber with fervent and grateful 
 prayer. That great house is visited by mes- 
 sengers from heaven, just because its humblest 
 inmate is an heir of salvation. The honored 
 name which it bears, the splendors of art 
 with which it is adorned, the courtly company 
 with which it is thronged would have no 
 attraction for them, if they did not find there 
 one whom Jesus loves. To them paintings 
 and sculpture and gorgeous robes and flashing 
 gems are but dust and ashes ; but in the faith- 
 ful life of the lowliest and most despised ser- 
 vant of Christ, they see the dawn of endless 
 glory and immortality. And the name of this 
 lonely mountain village of Bethany shall be 
 
204 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 kept in everlasting and grateful remembrance, 
 because it was the home of the family that 
 Jesus loved. 
 
 2. THE GOOD PART. 
 
 The first visit of our Lord to the friendly 
 house in Bethany, brings out the characters of 
 the two sisters, Martha and Mary, in striking 
 contrast with each other. He had come in from 
 a weary walk of eight hours, up the steep, 
 rugged and robber-haunted-road from Jericho, 
 It was the time for the great multitude of pil- 
 grims from Galilee to pass through the village 
 on their way to Jerusalem to attend the feast 
 of the Tabernacles. The house was thronged 
 with guests coming and going early and late. 
 When Jesus and his disciples appeared weary 
 and exhausted with climbing up the long, 
 steep ascent of the mountain path from the 
 plain of the Jordan, the little family must have 
 been thrown into some degree of excitement 
 and anxiety in answering the unusual demands 
 upon their hospitality. 
 
 Martha assumes the leading part, takes the 
 place of mistress of the louse, and is quite 
 
BETHANY. 205 
 
 beside herself with hurry and solicitude to 
 provide for her guests. She thinks it the first 
 duty to answer the physical wants of her 
 divine Visitor, and then she may rest and 
 delight herself with listening to his words. 
 She is utterly surprised and indignant that any 
 one of her family should expect the blessed 
 Teacher to talk, hungry, weary and exhausted 
 as he was, with eight hours of hard climbing 
 up the steep and stony path from Jericho. 
 
 On the other hand, Mary, perhaps not more 
 sincerely devoted to Jesus, but more quiet and 
 contemplative in her disposition, forgets every- 
 thing else in her desire to hear all that he 
 would say. Leaving the domestic prepara- 
 tions to the care of her sister, she steals 
 quietly into the apartment where the guests 
 were gathered, seats herself at the feet of 
 Jesus and listens with silent rapture to his 
 gracious words. While there, she is missed 
 by those of the family who are hurrying to 
 prepare the needed entertainment for the hun- 
 gry guests. The anxious and excited Martha 
 suddenly bursts into the room and expresses, 
 before all the company, her surprise and dis- 
 
 18 
 
206 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 pleasure that Jesus himself should permit or 
 approve such desertion of domestic duties. 
 This impulsive and unseemly interruption 
 drew from the lips of Jesus the memorable 
 words, " Martha, Martha, thou art careful and 
 troubled about many things ; but one thing is 
 needful and Mary hath chosen that good part, 
 which shall not be taken away from her." 
 
 Now it is distinctly said in the sacred narra- 
 tive, that Jesus loved each member of this 
 family. The gentle and loving John, who was 
 present on this occasion, gives no hint that 
 Martha was less esteemed than Mary. Jesus 
 did not reprove this excellent housekeeper and 
 hospitable woman for the ,part of work and 
 entertainment which she had generously cho- 
 sen, but for her busy, bustling and talkative 
 anxiety about many things which were only 
 made worse by anxiety. He would not have 
 her distract herself and family to hurry the 
 preparations, or to load the table with ambi- 
 tious abundance. He considered the unusual 
 demands that were made upon her hospitality, 
 by the arrival of so many weary and hungry 
 guests, and he would have her take time to 
 
BETHANY. 207 
 
 meet the demand with a quiet and cheerful 
 mind. 
 
 The good part which Mary had chosen, was 
 not simply the act of sitting at his feet and 
 hearing his words, but the longing desire to 
 receive what Christ alone could give, the 
 words of eternal life. Martha is restless and 
 troubled with her endeavors to make the 
 entertainment worthy of the house and of the 
 Guest; and she is displeased that her sister 
 can pause in the midst of such hurry and 
 excitement, and sit down quietly to hear the 
 words of Jesus. 
 
 These two sisters of Bethany represent two 
 phases of Christian character, everywhere 
 springing from a like diversity in constitu- 
 tional temperament. Both have their excel- 
 lences within certain limits, and both exhibit 
 defects when their ruling disposition is pressed 
 to undue extremes. It should be our constant 
 study to combine the calm and contemplative 
 devotion of the one, with the energy and activ- 
 ity of the other. Great energy in action must 
 needs be accompanied with great quietness of 
 spirit, or it will soon exhaust itself in inef- 
 
208 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 fectual struggles, and leave its work half done. 
 If we would grow in wisdom and in useful- 
 ness, we must cultivate -the capacity to listen 
 and to learn, as well as to talk and to teach. 
 There are times when speech and action are 
 the first duty ; and there are times when 
 silence and contemplation are the most excel- 
 lent virtues. The tendency of the present day 
 is to give too much of a bustling and business 
 aspect to our religion, and to neglect that 
 inner spiritual cultivation, without which all 
 outward show of zeal and activity rests upon 
 an uncertain foundation. 
 
 The demand of the age is for men of action. 
 And while there is much reason in that, it 
 would be better if there were a greater demand 
 for men of thought and devotion, men of con- 
 science and faith. The two qualities should go 
 together. The dark problems of the age will 
 not be solved without much hard thinking and 
 profound meditation. The most urgent work 
 of the age will not be done without great 
 physical endurance and unconquerable energy 
 in action. The world needs quiet and contem- 
 plative Christians like gentle Melancthon and 
 
BETHANY. 209 
 
 heavenly-minded Leighton and mystic Fene- 
 lon to teach the lesson of repose to weary 
 hearts, and to lend the charm of quiet and 
 thoughtful kindness to all the relations of pri- 
 vate life. The world needs Christians of in- 
 tense and impassioned natures like Augustine 
 and Edwards and Brainerd to fathom the 
 depths of their own spiritual necessities and 
 to tell the terrible secrets of the soul in words 
 of fire. And the world needs sons of thunder, 
 Christians with nerves of iron and faces of 
 adamant, like Luther and Knox and Cromwell, 
 to shake the nations with their stormy vehe- 
 mence, and to beat down the strongholds of 
 iniquity with words that strike like battle- 
 axes. 
 
 If these several characters cannot be com- 
 bined in one person, it is better that they shall 
 exist separately and in excess, than that the 
 world shall lose the services of either. The 
 quiet and passive virtues are beautiful and 
 lovely at home, but they lack energy and dar- 
 ing for the conquest of the world. The rest- 
 less activity and courage which overturns 
 
 thrones and assaults iniquity in the strong- 
 is * 
 
210 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 holds of its power, and thunders round the 
 earth with its great heroisms and victories, 
 lacks the quietude and thoughtfidness requisite 
 to the highest spiritual cultivation. 
 
 And we must not bring on ourselves the 
 rebuke of the Master by blaming others, 
 whose line of duty and of developement is dif- 
 ferent from our own. The world is large 
 enough for us all to live in, and it has work 
 enough for us all to do, and t^sks suited to the 
 tastes and capacities of each individual with- 
 out giving any one occasion to say, either that 
 he can do nothing or that his is the only way 
 of doing anything. All diversities of the one 
 human lot, all endowments of the one human 
 mind, all denominations of the one Christian 
 church, have suitable and honorable work to 
 do, and it should be the ambition of all, in 
 their appropriate sphere, to do the most and 
 the best. Wherever we may see others led by 
 sincere love to the Master, though it may be a 
 different path from our own, let us not blame 
 what he is sure to bless. Whether they 
 engage in great public enterprises or sit in con- 
 templation at his feet, whether they keep 
 
BETHANY. 211 
 
 themselves much before the world or court 
 retirement and repose, so long as each im- 
 proves his own proper gift, let us concede the 
 liberty of judgment to all, let us give offence 
 to the conscience of none. 
 
 3. THE MEMORIAL. 
 
 On another occasion, our Lord received a 
 special entertainment at Bethany, provided by 
 the same friends and probably in the same 
 house, in grateful commemoration of his great 
 miracle in raising Lazarus from the dead. It 
 was only six days before his crucifixion and he 
 was on his way to Jerusalem, to meet the great 
 sacrifice which awaited him there. At this 
 time also the house was filled with guests, and 
 there was great curiosity to see the man who 
 had been waked to life, after having slept the 
 sleep of death four days. While they were 
 reclined at table, Mary took a pound of very 
 precious ointment, and anointed the feet of 
 Jesus and wiped his feet with the hair of her 
 head. And when some exclaimed with indig- 
 nation against such a costly expression of de- 
 votion, Jesus rebuked their complaints with 
 
212 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 these memorable words, " Yerily, I say unto 
 you, wherever this gospel shall be preached in 
 the whole world, there shall also this, that this 
 woman hath done, be told for a memorial of 
 her." 
 
 This is the only promise of the kind that 
 Jesus ever made, and this Mary is the only 
 woman in all the past, with respect to whom 
 we have a divine assurance that her fame and 
 the influence of her life shall fill the world, 
 and endure through all time. When Cleopatra 
 of Egypt, and Zenobia of Palmyra, and Cath- 
 arine of Russia are forgotten, or are remem- 
 bered only to be pitied and despised, Mary of 
 Bethany shall be honored with loving and 
 grateful devotion. 
 
 Eighteen hundred years have passed since 
 this promise was given, and already the name 
 and humble service of this retiring woman 
 have become known to a greater number of 
 persons than any woman's name to be found in 
 all profane history. The brief story of her 
 life has been read and heard with profound 
 interest by countless millions. Her affecting 
 testimonial of love to Jesus has touched the 
 
BETHANY. 213 
 
 fountain of tears, and brought millions of 
 offerings to the poor for whom the wasteful 
 parsimony of the disciples would have kept 
 her gift. The one act of consecrating and sac- 
 ramental devotion, into which she poured her 
 whole weeping and passionate soul of love, 
 has done more to make the human heart a 
 sanctuary for the indwelling of holy love, than 
 all ever done by the proud daughters of 
 princes, or the worshipped stars of beauty in 
 imperial courts. 
 
 And this woman of Bethany was not in the 
 least indebted to riches, or rank, or personal 
 accomplishments for the blessed memory that 
 crowns and beautifies her name in all Chris- 
 tian annals. She was not a king's daughter. 
 She had not learned the accomplishments of 
 refined and cultivated society. She could not 
 boast of troops of admirers, or of costly pres- 
 ents laid at her feet. The artists of modern 
 times, in painting the scene in Simon's house 
 at Bethany, have indeed adorned the grateful 
 worshipper at Jesus' feet with surpassing 
 beauty. But the sacred historian does not say 
 that she was beautiful. We are left to infer 
 
214 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 the contrary, from the fact that she lived alone 
 in the house with her brother and sister in a 
 land where the lot of unmarried women was 
 one of peculiar neglect. 
 
 She had no thought of doing anything just 
 to make herself remembered, by anointing the 
 feet of Jesus. She had not seen him in his 
 glory. She did not know that even then 
 legions of angels were ready to wait on their 
 Lord. She saw in him one whom the world 
 despised, and she must have known that the 
 rulers of her people were bent upon putting 
 him to death. And it was just because she, a 
 timid and sensitive woman, braved the scorn 
 of the world and the rebuke of friends in her 
 own home, to declare her love for Jesus, that 
 she obtained for herself an honorable and 
 blessed memorial which shall outlast all time. 
 It was by her self-forgetting devotion to one, 
 whom others were impatient to destroy, that 
 she gained for herself an everlasting name 
 that shall not be cut off. 
 
 And so, evermore, Christ will keep the good 
 name of all who count no sacrifice too costly 
 to be offered upcn the altar of faith and love 
 
BETHANY. 215 
 
 to him. Their names shall be ever before 
 him, graven upon the palms of his hands and 
 precious in his sight. They shall be remem- 
 bered with gratitude when the selfish are 
 despised and the proud are put to shame. 
 The grand aim and purpose of life is most 
 sure to be gained by him who forgets every- 
 thing but duty, is animated by nothing but 
 love. To be happy ourselves, we must'live to 
 make others happy. To have all the good 
 that riches can buy, we must give all we have 
 to Christ. 
 
 I The most wretched lot in the world may be 
 lis, who is furthest removed from the necessity 
 to toil and to suffer. Better is it to pour out 
 possessions, talents and affections in grateful 
 devotion to Christ, and in that way seek for 
 happiness here and glory hereafter, than to 
 expend upon self everything that the world 
 can give ; and then go, to be told beyond the 
 grave, "remember that thou in thy lifetime 
 hadst thy good things." 
 
 Every day's observation proves that no 
 advantage of birth, or condition, or talent, or 
 success can procure happiness even in this 
 
216 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 life ; no afflictions or losses can take away the 
 true joy of living which comes from a good 
 conscience and a heart at peace with God. In 
 the splendid and coveted mansion of the mil- 
 lionaire, there are wounded hearts that no 
 medicine of the physician can heal. In the 
 gorgeously furnished apartments of princely 
 homes, there are sighings and groanings of 
 spirit to which no hired services can minis- 
 ter relief. You may recline at noonday upon 
 couches where kings might repose amid splen- 
 dors befitting their royal state ; your bed at 
 night may be canopied with purple and silken 
 draperies wrought with all the costly and 
 graceful devices of art, and yet in sleep you 
 may find no rest, and in waking wish that life 
 and consciousness had never come back. 
 
 In the gay and gorgeous hall at midnight, 
 where artificial light outflames the sun, and 
 voluptuous music intoxicates and maddens the 
 passions of earth, may be seen the beautiful 
 and bright-robed, radiant with smiles and 
 floating like birds of paradise upon the mazes 
 of the dance. And yet they may carry in 
 their own bosoms, beneath the blaze of gems 
 
BETHANY. 217 
 
 and the flash of sparkling eyes, the torture of 
 fires that die not. To them, the soft strain 
 that breathes in the lull of voices and the 
 pause of mirth may seem like the wail of the 
 pitying spirits of heaven over souls that are 
 lost. Reposing at luxurious ease in the bril- 
 liant carriage which flashes along the street, 
 and attracts the admiring gaze of all behold- 
 ers, may be seen one who has come forth from 
 an unhappy home at mid-day, calling it morn- 
 ing, striving to lose in the open air, the tortur- 
 ing burden of an hour, and yet returning disap- 
 pointed, with the burden still on the heart, 
 wearied without exertion and wretched without 
 cause. 
 
 And yet such is the lot, to attain which, 
 millions would sacrifice their souls. Such is 
 the happiness of those who choose, and in 
 
 judgment rather than in mercy, are permit- 
 t 
 
 ted to have all their good things in this life- 
 time. And the opposite extreme of want and 
 neglect, is just as full of envy and disap- 
 pointment and despair to those who think hap- 
 piness depends upon any earthly state, and 
 who never learn to live by faith on the Son of 
 
 19 
 
218 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 (rod. To that faith belongs the greatest victo- 
 ries ever gained in this world. 
 
 In his floorless cabin, weary, hungering and 
 cold, the simple-hearted Christian bondman 
 laid down to sleep in his crib of straw. He 
 had toiled all his life long for another's gain, 
 and he had no hope that he should ever be 
 anything else in this world than the unpaid 
 vassal of another's will. And yet the trans- 
 forming faith of that poor slave, made his 
 lowly cabin a holy place where angels de- 
 lighted to go, on messages of love from the 
 throne of heaven. Like the scourged and im- 
 prisoned apostles in the olden time, he woke 
 at midnight to pray and sing praises unto 
 Jesus. In his sleeping and in his waking 
 hours, he dreamed and he sung of a kingdom 
 that shall have no end and of a crown that he 
 should wear when the fetters of bondage were 
 broken. And that poor slave, with such lofty 
 expectations, was richer and happier than all 
 the wealth and glory of nations could make 
 him without the hope of eternal life. 
 
 I have seen an aged Christian woman whose 
 life for twenty years had been spent in darkness 
 
BETHANY. 219 
 
 as deep as the blackest midnight. In all that 
 time she had not been cheered in her desolation 
 by the light of one human smile ; she had not 
 seen a flower blossom, nor a star shine, nor a 
 single change come over the face of God's beau- 
 tiful earth. Darkness had come upon the whole 
 visible world to her, and had shut her in as 
 with an impenetrable wall on every side, and 
 her imprisoned spirit yearned in vain to find 
 the lost day. And so she knew that she must 
 live as long as life lasted, with no hope left 
 save that her Bible, which she could no longer 
 read, was still true, and that her Saviour, to 
 whom she gave the love of her youthful heart 
 long years before, would be with her in all her 
 affliction. The grave itself could not be 
 darker than the living tomb in which the soul 
 was already buried. She must go at the sum- 
 mons of death without ever seeing the face of 
 her own children, only hearing their voices 
 bidding her farewell in the dark. 
 
 And yet that aged sufferer, with blindness 
 added to many other afflictions, did not com- 
 plain. The cloud that had veiled the bodily 
 vision, did not cast a shadow upon the soul. 
 
220 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 When I endeavored to commiserate her un- 
 happy condition in the loss of sight, she said 
 with the simplicity of a child's faith, " I shall 
 soon see. The long night is almost gone, and 
 I am looking for the dawn. When death 
 opens the door, I shall pass from this dark 
 prison into the full day." As I visited that 
 aged disciple at different times in successive 
 years, I always left her humble abode with the 
 feeling that all the kingdoms of the earth, and 
 the glory of them all, were a worthless bauble 
 compared with the serene and quiet faith with 
 which she leaned upon her Saviour's support- 
 ing hand, and pressed on under the heavy 
 cloud of continual night, in the dark pilgrim- 
 age of life, without murmuring and without 
 fear. 
 
 And I wish it were not so hard to make 
 others believe the words, when I say that a 
 calm and obedient trust in God is worth as 
 much to the young, the healthful and the 
 strong in their prosperity as it was to that 
 blind and aged woman in her affliction. I 
 would that all could be persuaded to walk in 
 the light, before the darkness of trouble and 
 
BETHANY. 221 
 
 sorrow comes, and the night of death settles 
 down without any promise of returning day. 
 
 4. A GOOD WORK NEVER LOST. 
 
 The " good work," which Mary wrought 
 upon Jesus at Bethany by anointing him for 
 his burial is not the only one which shall live 
 forever. The everlasting memorial -of her 
 simple faith, kept alive and tenderly cherished 
 in a wicked world, is a promise that no act of 
 duty shall ever be forgotten before God, or 
 ever lose its power to do good. Jesus himself 
 will remember and reward the simplest service, 
 though it be but a cup of cold water given in 
 his name. Every purpose and every effort of ' 
 right- doing shall have its record in the book 
 of life, and its influence shall be kept alive to 
 guide and to bless, to instruct and to save, long 
 as the world shall stand. 
 
 The light of Christian example and Christian 
 instruction may be diminished and obstructed 
 by the cloud of ignorance and unbelief, but it 
 is light still, and it can never be put out. Evil 
 has indeed thus far prevailed over good to a 
 fearful extent in this world, tut it is not the 
 
 19 * 
 

 222 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 strongest power, it shall not always conquer, it 
 shall not live forever. Good by its very nature 
 is immortal. God will no more suffer it to die 
 than he will forget the work of his own hands 
 or forsake the soul that cries to him for help. 
 The humblest and poorest of the disciples of 
 Jesus can start waves of blessing that shall 
 deepen and widen and flow forever. You need 
 not know, you need not suspect that you are do- 
 ing anything great; you need not weary yourself 
 with busy anxieties about success. You have 
 only to go on quietly, faithfully, doing the work 
 which God's providence assigns you, and you 
 may be sure that the memorial of your life 
 will be written in the book of heaven, and , 
 there will be redeemed souls in the final day 
 to call you blessed. 
 
 The silent, teachable, trusting look with 
 which Mary watched the countenance and 
 caught the words of Jesus is still preaching 
 to millions. The world is indeed full of 
 hurry, of violence and of conflict, and it may 
 seem to us a waste of breath to speak gentle 
 words in the face of the whirlwind of strife. 
 And yet in such a world God has promised 
 
BETHANY. 223 
 
 that his ' gentleness shall make his people 
 great; by suffering they shall grow strong; by 
 failure they shall learn success, and by defeat 
 they shall conquer. 
 
 The calmness and the self-possession of a 
 right purpose and a pure heart disarm opposi- 
 tion and win more than violence. The rudest 
 nature, that would hurl back threatening and 
 rebuke with fiercer words of wrath, may be 
 mastered and melted into penitence and love 
 by a single look like that which Jesus turned 
 upon Peter. You need not wait for great 
 occasions, you need not ask for extraordinary 
 abilities, you need not have a thought what 
 the world will think of you ; only let your 
 daily walk be a living testimony unto Jesus, 
 and God will keep that testimony in the 
 world, widening and deepening and intensify- 
 ing in power, long as the Grospel shall be 
 preached for the salvation of men. 
 
 Every world in the material universe is 
 bound to every other by immutable law, and 
 no atom is ever lost from the immensity of 
 things created. The circlet of waves produced 
 by the fall of a pebble travels to the uttermost 
 
224 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 parts of the sea. The blow that I strike with 
 my hand is felt around the earth and beyond 
 the stars. Much more pervasive and enduring 
 are those moral influences that form the char- 
 acter and fix the destiny of immortal beings. 
 Every act of duty starts a wave of light and 
 of blessing that shall roll and expand for end- 
 less ages. It is the sceptic's dismal philos- 
 ophy which says, " The good that men do 
 in their lives is interred with their bones." 
 In the service of Christ effort is success and a 
 right purpose is victory, and no faithful laborer 
 can fail to find many among the host of the 
 redeemed to call him blessed. 
 
 BTot many years ago, a European philoso-' 
 pher, unrolling the countless bandages of an 
 Egyptian mummy, found a few grains of 
 wheat in the black and withered hand. Curi- 
 osity led him to plant the kernels in the 
 colder soil of the north. The germ of life 
 which had been imprisoned three thousand 
 years in the dark charnel of death, responded 
 to the touch of warmth and moisture and light, 
 and shot forth the green stalk and matured the 
 ripened grain. And now, year by year, broad 
 
BETHANY. 225 
 
 fields sown from the produce of those revived 
 kernels of Egyptian wheat wave their rich 
 harvests beneath the autumnal sun, and thou- 
 sands of lives are sustained by food, the fruit- 
 ful germ of which was so long imprisoned in 
 the house of death. 
 
 And so the laborer in any department of 
 Christian service, by precept or by example, 
 may drop the seed-corn of the divine word 
 into the cold, dead heart of the world, and 
 many seasons may pass, and he may see no 
 signs that the seed sown in patience and in 
 sorrow will ever germinate or even retain its 
 life. He may go on year after year, faithful 
 though despondent and sad of heart, making 
 ten thousand unrecognized, unapplauded efforts 
 for the good of others, and at last he may go 
 down to the grave, feeling that nothing of all 
 that he has done will live after him to bless the 
 world or to cause his name to be remembered 
 with gratitude. 
 
 And yet the countless years of heaven alone 
 may be sufficient to estimate the blessed fruit 
 springing from that life of toil, of patience and 
 of disappointment. It may yet be found that 
 
226 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 the most needed and successful laborers in 
 God's great vineyard of the world were they 
 who were willing to toil on without apparent 
 or applauded success, but simply because they 
 believed that no right purpose, no well-meant 
 effort could ever fail of its appropriate result 
 or be forgotten before Grod. The great contest 
 which truth is waging for the mastery of this 
 world continues through all the ages, and the 
 delay of -a year or of a century is no indication 
 that truth has lost its power, or that the divine 
 purpose is defeated. t 
 
 Two hundred years ago, John Flavel, of 
 Dartmouth, in England, driven out of his pul- 
 pit by the persecuting Act of Uniformity, was 
 preaching in an open field. With his wonted 
 earnestness and affectionate fervor of address, 
 he spoke of the dreadful curse resting on all 
 who love not the Lord Jesus Christ. Among 
 the listeners on that day was a youth of fifteen, 
 who heard the solemn words of the preacher, 
 and went away as though he heard them not. 
 Some of noble birth and of high intellectual 
 culture were so deeply affected that they fell 
 senseless upon the ground. But that thought- 
 
BETHANY. 227 
 
 less young man only listened and looked on as 
 if he were a disinterested spectator. Soon 
 afterwards he began a roving life upon the 
 seas, and finally settled down for a permanent 
 home, a faithless and a prayerless man, in 
 America. Meanwhile, Flavel continued to 
 preach the gospel which he loved, amid perse- 
 cutions and many sorrows, and when the last 
 joyful summons came, he went home to Grod in 
 peace. 
 
 And eighty-five years passed by, from that 
 day of field-preaching at Dartmouth, and the 
 boy of fifteen was now a man of a hundred 
 years and still a wanderer from God. The 
 quick susceptibilities of youth had died in his 
 old and guilty heart long ago. No ordinary 
 faith could have believed that the seed-corn of 
 divine truth planted by John Flavel's preach- 
 ing eighty-five years before, on the other side 
 of the ocean, still survived and was destined to 
 spring up and bear fruit unto life eternal. 
 But so it was. It chanced on a certain day 
 that he found himself alone in an open field 
 belonging to his own farm, with no weeping 
 multitude around him to awaken his sympa- 
 
228 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 thies, and no preacher's solemn voice to tell 
 him of his sin. Moved, he knew not how, that 
 old man, in his hundredth year, passing over 
 all the intervening space of time felt himself 
 back again in the field at Dartmouth, hearing 
 the fearful words, " If any man love not the 
 Lord Jesus Christ, let him be accursed." And 
 the message of heaven, which the thoughtless 
 youth so easily rejected, was mightier when 
 speaking from the remembered past than when 
 heard from the living voice. Then first the 
 aged sinner found strength to roll the burden 
 of the threatened curse from his heart, through 
 the exercise of penitent and trusting love. He 
 lived to the extraordinary age of a hundred and 
 sixteen years, believing and rejoicing in the 
 Saviour, whom, for a century, he had rejected. 
 And the awakening call of duty, which roused 
 him from the sleep of impenitence and unbe- 
 lief, came from the remembered words of one 
 who had rested from his labor for more than 
 half a century. 
 
 Such is the persistency with which the truth 
 retains its life and germinating power, even 
 when sown in the uncongenial soil of the 
 
BETHANY. 229 
 
 depraved heart. And one such example of 
 effort apparently lost, living and working for 
 good long after the laborer himself has forgot- 
 ten his work, maj give us hope and encourage- 
 ment as we sow the seed of life beside all 
 waters, morning, evening and at noon of day, 
 withholding not our hand. 
 
 5. THE COMMON LOT. 
 
 If a home on earth could be free from the 
 anxiety, the suspense and the silent anguish 
 of waiting on the sick and the dying, it would 
 seem that it should be the home where Jesus 
 so often sought refuge from the cold and 
 contentious world, and ever found sympathiz- 
 ing friends and a welcome hospitality. If any 
 family on earth could be justified in feeling 
 themselves secure for a time against -the 
 dreaded visitation of death, it must be the one 
 towards which Jesus was drawn by ties of the 
 deepest and most constant love. 
 
 And yet the great woe inflicted upon the 
 whole human race by transgression is too deep 
 and dreadful to spare even them. The one, 
 all-pitiless destroyer, that was never yet 
 
230 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 restrained from his work by the revered aspect 
 of age, or the wail of helpless infancy, or any 
 degree of loveliness in human character, must 
 not spare even the home where the Son of 
 God in the last days of his ministry found his 
 only rest. There, where the Comforter of all 
 sorrows, the Healer of all diseases, the Giver 
 of all life, so often went to repose after the 
 weary day spent in the narrow and noisy 
 streets of Jerusalem there came the dread 
 shadow of sore affliction, and darkened the 
 light of the window, and sat down unbidden 
 at the daily board, and lingered in the quiet 
 chamber, and would not be persuaded to de- 
 part, day nor night. In the very house where 
 Jesus had so many times sat at meat and 
 cheered all hearts with words and looks of 
 love, in the very chamber where he had slept 
 at night and from which he had gone forth in 
 the morning, leaving the blessing of peace 
 behind him, there must be the silent step 
 which waits upon the suffering, the sympathiz- 
 ing look which strives in vain to conceal anxi- 
 ety, and the suppressed voice which whispers 
 hope, while the heart is heavy with fear. The 
 
BETHANY. 231 
 
 very one upon whom the family must be most 
 dependent for the preservation of its name, 
 and for support in the time of trial and adver- 
 sity, is smitten down by relentless disease. 
 
 The alarmed and sorrowing sisters watch by 
 night and by day the growing symptoms of a 
 fatal result, and they exhaust every remedy in 
 the vain effort to sustain the sinking powers of 
 life. It now seems to avail them nothing that 
 Jesus was their friend, and that he had often 
 shared the hospitality of the family, and had 
 given them many tokens of affectionate regard 
 for the suffering and dying brother. They are 
 in trouble, and are anxiously looking for any 
 sign of hope or relief; but they find none, and 
 their divine Friend is far away beyond Jordan, 
 and it might cost him his life if he should 
 come to help them. The quiet home towards 
 which Jesus had so many times bent his foot- 
 steps at evening and where his presence had 
 filled every heart with peace must soon be 
 made dark with mourning and death. 
 
 And such is still the lot of the families 
 which Jesus loves in all the earth. There are 
 many such, and he has long been with them in 
 
232 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 spirit, a frequent and a familiar guest. At 
 evening-tide, in the night watches, and when 
 the morning brings the gladness of the new 
 day, they welcome Jesus to their homes and to 
 their hearts. They set before him the best of 
 all they have, and they only wish they could 
 give him more, and that he would make his 
 abode with them. In him, they see the 
 brightness of the eternal Father's glory 
 brought so near, and clothed with so much of 
 human kindness, that they reverently call him 
 Brother, and trust in him as the support and 
 guardian of the househol^ 
 
 And yet affliction will not be forbidden to 
 smite such families. Death will not be com- 
 manded to spare the parent, the brother, the 
 sister or the child whom Jesus loves. The 
 very Friend whom they most confide, who 
 is himself most deeply interested in their wel- 
 fare, and who can do all things for them in the 
 hour of need, will not command the destroyer, 
 in his goings forth through this sorrow-stricken 
 world, to pass by their dwelling without enter- 
 ing. Infinitely gracious and compassionate as 
 Jesus is, he does not promise to turn aside the 
 
BETHANY. 233 
 
 stroke of affliction, even from those who walk 
 most closely with him in the journey of life. 
 He is willing to visit the most wretched home 
 and watch with the suffering in the darkest 
 hour, but his presence will not dismiss all pain. 
 Even to his dearest friends he still says, " In 
 this world ye shall have tribulation." When 
 they ask for a home where there shall be no 
 more sorrow, he points to the gateway of 
 death. 
 
 And, besides, the great sympathizing High 
 Priest of our profession has taught us, by his 
 own example, how great and godlike it is to 
 suffer and to be made perfect by suffering. 
 The serene and blessed heights of peace and 
 joy are attained by those who have climbed 
 the rugged steeps of pain and toil. Grod sends 
 the sorest chastisement upon his most beloved 
 children, that they may be made white in the 
 furnace of affliction, and be presented without 
 spot before his throne. The troubles and dis- 
 quietudes of this earthly life will prove minis- 
 ters of mercy, if they make us cling to our 
 Father's hand, and long for rest in our Father's 
 < house. The single eye of faith san see the bow 
 
 20 * 
 
234 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 of promise upon the darkest cloud. The quick 
 ear of obedience and affection can hear the 
 voice of love amid the thunders of the wildest 
 storm. 
 
 We do not know when, or under what cir- 
 cumstances, the journey of our life will close, 
 but it need not be in darkness or despair. Some 
 will be called without a moment's warning; 
 some will be led down to the grave slowly, 
 through months and years of weariness and 
 pain'; some will be called when life is most 
 dear, and all its pursuits and pleasures charm 
 them most; and some will stay long after 
 trouble and disappointment have made it a 
 weariness to live. The youngest of a family 
 may be taken first. The strongest and most 
 healthful may be struck down, while the feeble 
 must wait on them in their prostration and 
 mourn for them when they are gone. One who 
 has been waiting and expecting to go any day 
 for years, may at last be taken by surprise. 
 One may be called when his plans for worldly 
 business are mature, and in the most successful 
 operation ; another when all his earthly affairs 
 are unsettled, and no one can fill his place, and 
 
BETHANY. 235 
 
 his removal will cause the greatest embarrass- 
 ment to his dearest friends ; another must go 
 to the house appointed for all the living, just 
 as he has completed every arrangement to 
 spend his declining years in retirement and 
 peace. One may toil for years in patience and 
 poverty and disappointment, and when at last 
 the hour of success comes, he must leave it for 
 others to enjoy ; another may have little of 
 struggle or conflict, less of failure or disap- 
 pointment, and yet he too just as certainly 
 must die. 
 
 Such are the inevitable conditions of this 
 earthly life. The gospel tells the affecting story 
 of affliction and death coming upon the family 
 that Jesus most tenderly loved, as if to assure 
 us, in the most touching manner, that it is the 
 portion, even of the accepted children of God, 
 in this world to suffer and to die. There is 
 nothing left for us to do, if we would be wise, 
 but to conform our earthly plans to the common 
 lot, and to cherish hopes for the endless future, 
 such as affliction and death cannot destroy. 
 
236 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 6. THE MESSAGE. 
 
 When the fatal sickness fell upon Lazarus 
 at Bethany, his alarmed and afflicted sisters 
 sent and told Jesus. They were in trouble, 
 and they had reason to fear the worst, but it 
 was a calm and confiding message that they 
 sent. " Lord, behold he whom thou lovest is 
 sick.". The bearer of the heavy tidings must 
 make his way down the steep and rocky path 
 to Jericho, and across the Jordan, to the desert 
 place where Jesus had retired with his disci- 
 ples. The going and returning must be a 
 journey of days. And yet there is no sign of 
 hurry or impatience in the message which the 
 sisters sent. They safely presumed that the 
 love of Jesus for their dying brother, would 
 prompt him to do all that their own love could 
 desire to have done. It was enough for them 
 that Jesus should know that Lazarus was 
 sick. 
 
 I remember well myself to have been sent, 
 when a child, as the bearer of heavy tidings to 
 a family living some miles distant. And I was 
 instructed only to say to an afflicted sister, that 
 
BETHANY. 237 
 
 her brother was dead. In that case too it was 
 taken for granted, that a sincere affection for 
 the afflicted family would dictate whatever 
 were best to be done. I was not told to ask the 
 friends at a distance to come to those upon 
 whom the heavy stroke had fallen, but only to 
 say that death had entered the household. It 
 was not for a moment supposed that such a 
 message could be received with indifference. 
 
 Such confidence had the afflicted sisters at 
 Bethany, in the warmth and sincerity of 
 Christ's love for them, and for their dying 
 brother. And it was therefore the most natu- 
 ral thing in the world that they should send so 
 brief and simple a message to him, when they 
 were so greatly afflicted : " Behold, he whom 
 thou lovest is sick." 
 
 Our risen and glorified Lord is as worthy 
 of our confidence, now that he sits upon the 
 throne of heaven, as he was when he came a 
 homeless wanderer, to be entertained at the 
 friendly house in Bethany. And our faith in 
 the reality of his love should not fail us, when 
 sickness darkens the light of our homes, and 
 death enters the household. First of all in the 
 
238 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 day of our affliction, we should fly upon the 
 swift wings of prayer to tell the tidings of our 
 trouble unto Jesus. Nothing that touches our 
 hearts with joy or grief, is too trifling to be 
 told to him. The greatest sorrow shall be 
 easily borne with such help as he can give. 
 Our greatest Friend will have a right to feel 
 himself wronged, if we pour out our grief to 
 others, and shut our hearts to him. 
 
 For the great sorrows of life, there is little 
 alleviation, there is no absolute cure, save that 
 which the coming of Jesus brings to the weary 
 heart. If we seek the help of Jesus first, we 
 shall spare ourselves much disappointment in 
 looking to others for consolation. When those, 
 who have exhausted every other resource in 
 vain, are constrained at last to look to Jesus 
 for rest, they are filled with surprise and joy, 
 to find that the best and greatest Friend, was 
 all the while knocking at the door and waiting 
 to be admitted. 
 
 The little child runs to the mother with the 
 tale of every joy and every sorrow. And when 
 we become like children in faith, and so are 
 fitted for the kingdom of heaven, we shall as 
 
BETHANY. 239 
 
 naturally go to our Father with all our griefs 
 and all our joys. The cares and toils of which 
 we speak to our human friends, will still be 
 named with open and reverent hearts, when 
 we come to our Father in prayer. It is due 
 to our best Friend that we shall never doubt 
 the reality of his love. He does not need to be 
 importuned into an interest in our welfare. 
 The very trial that tasks our faith most se- 
 verely, and makes it seem to us that he has 
 forsaken us, has been sent in mercy to give us 
 more peace and confidence in him when the 
 trial is past. The whole earthly life of Jesus 
 is an infinite demonstration of the depth of his 
 love for the helpless and the unworthy. Against 
 all the suggestions of unbelief, against all the 
 discouragements that arise from new discoveries 
 our need, we have this one assurance, 
 " While we were yet sinners, Christ died for 
 ' us." Surely we cannot come to such a Friend 
 too often, we cannot speak too plainly or too 
 confidingly to him, of anything that gives us 
 grief or trouble or joy. 
 
240 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 7. THE SUSPENSE. 
 
 When the message came from the sisters at 
 Bethany to Jesus at Bethabara, he replied im- 
 mediately, "This sickness is not unto death." 
 The messenger returned with joy, hurrying 
 along the steep and stony track of the moun- 
 tain road, impatient to relieve the anxious 
 household with the glad intelligence that the 
 beloved brother should not die. What must 
 have been his surprise and confusion, on reach- 
 ing the house, to find that Lazarus was already 
 in his grave. How much it would add to the 
 grief and perplexity of the bereaved sisters 
 when he should tell them what Jesus had said. 
 How sorely would it task their confidence in 
 the truth, the wisdom, and the love of their 
 greatest and best Friend, to have word brought 
 from him, that their brother should not die, on 
 the very evening of the day when they had 
 followed the cold and lifeless body to the tomb. 
 
 " Had Jesus sent that word in mistaken kind* 
 ness to keep their hearts from despondency, 
 while as yet himself did not know what the 
 end would be? Was he experimenting with 
 
BETHANY. 241 
 
 the power of hope to sustain the suffering and 
 to shake off the grasp of disease ? Had Jesus 
 promised what he could not perform? Had 
 his great power forsaken him, and must those 
 who had looked to him for miraculous aid, at 
 last confess that he had become as weak as 
 they? Had he given the positive assurance 
 of recovery to his dearest friend, the very day 
 that others had carried that friend in sorrow to 
 the grave? Had Jesus designedly staid in 
 distant Bethabara to save himself from wit- 
 nessing a scene of suffering which he could not 
 relieve? Had he refused to come back with 
 the messenger, that he might avoid the distrust 
 and reproaches of those who once confided in 
 his power to heal all manner of disease?" 
 
 Such doubts and fears must have tried the 
 hearts of the afflicted sisters of Bethany, dur- 
 ing the four dark days of mourning, more 
 severely than the actual death of their brother. 
 They had always known that Lazarus and 
 themselves also must sooner or later die, but 
 they had hoped that the word of Jesus would 
 never fail. If he had only staid where he was, 
 after receiving tidings of their affliction, 
 
 21 
 
242 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 they could have understood that; for they 
 knew that it would be at the peril of his life, 
 if he came to them. But how must it have 
 wrung their hearts with anguish, to think of 
 their brother sleeping in the cold tomb, and at 
 the same time of the strange and apparently 
 mistaken word of Jesus, " This sickness is not 
 unto death." 
 
 s So is it with us all in the dark days of afflic- 
 7 tion and despondency. The cloud casts its 
 
 p 
 
 \ thick shadows all around us ; our hopes fail ; 
 
 Vour hearts are weary, and life is a burden. 
 But if we walk trustingly on in the darkness, 
 till we learn the great lesson of faith, Jesus 
 himself will take us by the hand and lead us 
 forth to the light, and we shall see his face in 
 a broader and brighter day. In the review 
 of the past we shall learn that our infinite 
 Helper was by our side and bending over us 
 with unutterable love when we were prostrate 
 and thought ourselves utterly forsaken. We 
 never see him as he sees us. We are never as 
 ready to receive his help, as he is to relieve 
 our need. We have attained the highest joy 
 of life when we have learned to take what God , 
 
BETHANY. 243 
 
 gives with a grateful heart, and to live for his 
 glory equally in sickness and in health, in 
 abundance and in want. The Son of God is 
 glorified, the word of peace is preached to the 
 world, by all who suffer with Christ in patience 
 and in hope. The days and nights of weari- 
 ness and pain are precious to those who walk 
 the fiery furnace of affliction in company with 
 the Son of man. 
 
 8. THE RELIEF. 
 
 Two days after the sad news came from 
 Bethany, Jesus told the disciples what had be- 
 fallen the famijy of his friend, and proposed 
 to go and comfort them in their affliction. He 
 would not delay too long, lest the trial of their 
 faith might end in unbelief and despair. He 
 would not go too soon, lest he should deprive 
 them of the best opportunity to behold his 
 glory in his power over death. However 
 perilous it might be to his own life, he would 
 not refuse to go at the call of those who had 
 received him at their own house, and afforded 
 him a quiet and safe retreat from the conten- 
 tious and cavilling world. 
 
244 WALKS AND HOMES 
 
 To al. who have welcomed him to their 
 homes and their hearts, in the days of health 
 and prosperity, he will come with the blessing 
 of peace and consolation, when sorrow darkens 
 around them, and death enters the household. 
 He comes to all even now in meekness and in 
 lowliness, willing to dwell in the humblest 
 home, able to cheer the saddest heart. He 
 stands long at many a door, waiting for admis- 
 sion. He suffers the indignity of delay and 
 rejection, only that he may win his way to the 
 heart by kindness and be received as a friend. 
 
 It may be easy for many to reject him in the 
 day of their pride and prosperity. But even 
 the prayerless and the profane will call for the 
 ministers and disciples of Jesus when the hand 
 of death is upon them. How much better it 
 were for them to receive Jesus himself as a 
 constant and familiar friend when the heart is 
 glad and the cup of earthly blessing runs over, 
 and then he will not be far from them in the 
 hour of their greatest need. 
 
 9. TWELVE HOUKS IN THE DAY. 
 
 Jesus goes in good time, to explain and fulfill 
 
BETHANY. 245 
 
 his assurance that the sickness of Lazarus 
 should not be unto death. His disciples feared 
 that the journey might be attended with danger 
 to him and to themselves, and they accordingly 
 endeavored to dissuade him from making the 
 attempt. Jesus silenced their remonstrances 
 by declaring that every man has his work as- 
 signed, and that while he walks in the light of 
 truth, no power on earth can prevent the ac- 
 complishment of all that God has given him to 
 do. 
 
 We shall all have time enough to do our 
 work well, if we improve the hours as they are 
 given ; and when our task is done, there will 
 be time enough to rest. Life is never too short 
 to them who live for God. There is no such 
 thing as loss or failure, to them who seek infi- 
 nite riches in the love of Christ. Those that 
 walk with Jesus, can tread the roughest path 
 of life with firm and even step, without haste, 
 without rest, doing the duty which the day 
 brings, and ready for the morrow when the 
 morrow comes. The hurry and the -waste, the 
 fear of failure and the hope of success, upon 
 which millions weary their hearts, all come 
 
 21 
 
246 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 from neglecting the proper work of life, or at- 
 tempting to do what had better never be done, 
 Invincible energy is treasured up in the repose 
 of a good conscience ; unquenchable zeal lives 
 and burns beneath the calm of a spirit that 
 communes with Jesus. 
 
 A great Christian statesman and scholar 
 adopted this rule for the division of time; 
 " Give eight hours of the twenty -four to toil, 
 eight to devotion and recreation, eight to rest, 
 and all to God." It is the giving of all to God, 
 that makes every day profitable, and saves the 
 loss of a single hour. If we make it our great 
 study to live in harmony with God's provi- 
 dence, and in obedience to his word, we shall 
 have time and talents and opportunity to do all 
 our work and to do it well. 
 
 However many months and years of life men 
 may throw away, however much they may 
 burden themselves with cares and business, 
 and plead worldly engagements for the neglect 
 of duty, God will give all a time for one great 
 and solemn work, and when the hour comes, 
 all other engagements will have to give place 
 to that. God will give all a time to die. God 
 
BETHANY. 247 
 
 gives opportunities for repentance and faith, 
 for prayer and for the study of his word, for 
 doing good to others, and for all Christian 
 work ; and men may use the opportunity for a 
 thousand other things, rather than the one 
 which God chooses. But there is one call 
 which none can defer, none can deny. 
 
 A hard driven slave of mammon toiled all 
 the week, and found the days too few to finish 
 all that his greedy soul desired to do. The 
 blessed Sabbath morning found him back at 
 his desk, with bills and ledgers around him, 
 too busy to keep the holy day. Half of the 
 afternoon was gone before he could find time 
 to rest. All Monday, he laughed within at the 
 cunning cheat, by which he had stolen time 
 from God, and got the start of the world for a 
 week. Tuesday morning tidings came to his 
 breakfast-table, that death had entered the 
 house of a neighbor and friend, the. previous 
 night. "Ah! indeed, but it is very different 
 with me. I am so busy I could not find time 
 to die." The fool's jest was still on his lip, 
 when he rose, walked, fell upon the floor. His 
 hour had come. He had pressing work, and 
 
248 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 many things that nobody but himself could do 
 that day. But he was not too busy to die. 
 
 " There are twelve hours in the day." There 
 is a fixed and appointed season of duty, of toil 
 and of blessing, for all in this world. While 
 that season lasts, God's favor will shine upon 
 your path and make it all light. Improve the 
 season well, and so when nothing more remains 
 for you to do, to enjoy or to suffer here, be 
 ready to pass in peace, through the rest and 
 sleep of death, into the endless and blessed 
 life. 
 
 10. THE BLESSED SLEEP. 
 
 Death is the most awful thunderbolt of the 
 divine wrath that has ever fallen upon this 
 earth. In all the languages of men, in all ages 
 of human history, it has been named the king 
 of terrors. From him who is living without 
 God in the world, it cuts off every hope, it de- 
 stroys every possession, it blasts every joy. 
 To him, beauty of form, and pride of place, 
 and glory of intellect are but dust and ashes 
 when death comes to change his face and send 
 him away. Let philosophy arm itself with 
 
BETHANY. 249 
 
 studied and proud resolution ; let worldliness 
 march blindly on, refusing to think of anything 
 beyond this life; let romance strew the grave 
 with flowers, and art make the habitations of 
 the dead more beautiful than the homes of the 
 living; and still death, in any form, under any 
 circumstances, is awful. 
 
 In no way does Jesus assume a more com- 
 plete superiority over everything that we have 
 to fear, than by taking away the terror of 
 death. ' To those who believe in him he makes 
 death only a sleep, a peaceful and holy rest, the 
 awakening from which shall be the beginning 
 of a new and a blessed life. 
 
 Toil is the best preparation for rest. The 
 sleep of the laboring man is sweet. No medi- 
 cine of the physician, no exemption from care, 
 no luxuries of house, or service, or table, can 
 command such refreshing sleep as honest labor 
 brings to the weary every night. And so the 
 sleep of death will be sweet and welcome to all 
 whose work of life is done. Life is the time 
 for toil. It is the fool that says to his soul, 
 "Take thine ease." The call for more laborers 
 in every part of God's great vineyard, grows 
 
250 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 louder and louder as new fields of usefulness 
 are opened, and the facilities for doing good are 
 multiplied. In such a time, none but a recreant 
 and an idler would make it his study to shun 
 responsibility and seek repose. 
 
 There is no promise that assured rest will be 
 given here, and those who fix their hearts upon 
 attaining it, are sure to be disappointed. There 
 are many who work hard and wear out all their 
 strength, to lay up for themselves a few years 
 of rest on earth, and yet never find an hour of 
 calm and abundant peace. They toil and weary 
 themselves, like galley slaves, in the hard ser- 
 vice of the world, and then, when all is done, 
 are compelled to make the bitter confession 
 that they have spent their strength for naught. 
 The work and the weariness of life have been 
 theirs in full measure, and yet they have never 
 been encouraged and comforted by the assur- 
 ance that when the toil of life is done, they 
 shall sleep in Jesus and find rest. They bind 
 themselves with heavy bonds to the god of this 
 world ; they consent to be made slaves and bow 
 clown beneath heavy burdens ; they give their 
 hearts to be pierced and tortured with care and 
 
BETHANY. 251 
 
 anxiety; they deny themselves the true joy of 
 living and get nothing for tneir pains but re- 
 gret and disappointment. When the Master 
 comes to take account of their work, they have 
 nothing to show but misimproved talents and 
 wasted hours. They must go down to the 
 grave with no hope that the sleep of death will 
 bring them to the morn of a blessed and an 
 endless life. 
 
 But to the faithful laborer, who has toiled 
 and suffered to the end, in loving devotion to 
 his heavenly King, Jesus himself will come in 
 good time to awake him out of sleep, and to 
 clothe him in the robes of immortality. He 
 shall hear the voice which the dead Lazarus 
 heard in Bethany, and shall come forth to a 
 new life whose serene and tireless activity shall 
 be the truest rest for the soul. 
 
 11. THE MEKCIFUL ABSENCE. 
 
 The inability of infinite love to cease from 
 loving and helping the unworthy, is one of the 
 wonders of revelation. When Jesus told his 
 disciples plainly that Lazarus was dead, he 
 said, " I am glad for your sakes, that I was not 
 
252 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 there, to the intent that ye may believe." He 
 ventured to be thought for a time unkind and 
 forgetful of his friend, that he might show the 
 greater kindness in the end. If he had been 
 at Bethany, and had seen the progress of the 
 disease under which Lazarus was hastening to 
 the grave, compassion for the suffering one and 
 for his alarmed and afflicted relatives, would 
 have constrained him to put forth his miracu- 
 lous power and arrest the disease, and so he 
 would have deprived himself of the opportu- 
 nity to perform the greater miracle of raising 
 the dead. He confesses himself unable to wit- 
 ness the sorrow of his friends, in the house of 
 sickness and death, without putting forth his 
 divine power for their relief; and that too when 
 he had the strongest reasons for withholding 
 his hand for a while, that he might do the 
 greater work in the end. 
 
 And such is still his compassion for the suf- 
 fering and the needy who trust in him. He 
 cannot refrain himself from helping them. 
 The same Jehovah-Jesus, the Angel of the 
 Covenant, said unto Lot, "I cannot do any- 
 thing till thou be come " to a place of safety. 
 
BETHANY. 253 
 
 Jacob discovered the unconquerable Angel, in 
 the mysterious antagonist, against whom he 
 had wrestled in the dark till the morning, and 
 then he was not rebuked for saying, " I will 
 not let thee go, except thou bless me." The 
 lonely and defenseless man of Penuel, who 
 feared that he should be destroyed by his angry 
 brother Esau, had power with the infinite One 
 by his very weakness, and prevailed. 
 
 The feebleness of the child overcomes the 
 strong man's heart. So the Almighty Father 
 cries in compassion over his .erring and help- 
 less children, " How shall I give thee up ? 
 Mine heart is turned within me, my repentings 
 are kindled together." Ages before the Son of 
 God appeared in fashion as a man, and by his 
 meek and gentle spirit showed the true char- 
 acter of the Father to men, it was written, 
 " Like as a father pitieth his children, so the 
 Lord pitieth them that fear him. For he 
 knoweth our frame, he remembereth that we 
 are dust." 
 
 This is the great lesson which we all have to 
 learn, through living faith in Christ the Son of 
 God. Reason and nature can teach us much 
 
 22 
 
254 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 concerning a supreme, eternal and Almighty 
 Creator. The gospel alone, with its human 
 tenderness and touching simplicity, can make 
 us acquainted with a paternal and pitying God. 
 Inspiration alone may venture to say that 
 human weakness can prevail over infinite 
 power. 
 
 Multitudes pass through the world, restless, 
 impatient, unhappy, all the way, always grasp- 
 ing at something beyond their reach ; always 
 dissatisfied with that which has cost them the 
 most pains ; always feeling that something for 
 which they are not responsible stands in the 
 way of their happiness. It would make life 
 and the world all new to such, if they could 
 only believe that they have a Father in heaven 
 rich enough to bestow every blessing upon his 
 children, and too kind to let them suffer 
 except for their good. It would be the most 
 glorious revelation to all the unhappy if they 
 could see and believe that God cannot restrain 
 himself from helping those who trust in him. 
 
 And these words are not simply for those 
 who are already in trouble. It often does very 
 little good to speak of God's pity to the af- 
 
BETHANY. 255 
 
 flicted, just because they have not learned to 
 recognize his kindness in the day of prosper- 
 ity. They then forgot that all blessing came 
 from their heavenly Father, and they find it 
 still harder to see, when the cloud is upon 
 them, that affliction itself may be sent by him 
 in still greater mercy. If we walk with God 
 in the day of peace and prosperity, we shall 
 find it easy to believe that he is still with us 
 in the night of conflict and sorrow. 
 
 12. BE STILL. 
 
 When death entered the house of a Hebrew 
 family, it was the signal for violent outcries 
 and loud lamentations. The afflicted rent 
 their garments, disfigured their faces, plucked 
 out their hair, covered themselves with sack- 
 cloth and ashes and sat upon the ground. 
 For many days, all the ordinary pursuits of 
 life were given up ; their only food was bread 
 of affliction mingled with their own tears, and, 
 to all outward appearance, they surrendered 
 themselves to utter wretchedness and despair. 
 In many cases hired mourners were employed 
 to lift up their voices in weeping and wailing ; 
 
256 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 and sympathizing friends were ambitious to 
 outdo each other in noisy demonstrations of 
 woe, and thus in every way to increase the 
 misery of those who mourned from real sorrow 
 of heart. The custom often degenerated into 
 a tiresome and unmeaning form, and the 
 afflicted were wearied and oppressed, rather 
 than comforted, by the ambitious and noisy 
 condolence of their friends. 
 
 Such was the scene of mourning in the 
 stricken house at Bethany, when the divine 
 Comforter came, the fourth day after Lazarus 
 had been carried to the grave. Many a time 
 had friendly messengers gone down to the 
 opening of the glen towards the east, and 
 watched the companies of travelers climbing 
 up the steep ascent of the mountain-path from 
 Jericho, hoping that Jesus might be among 
 them. Many a time had the bereaved sisters 
 gone up to the housetop, and looked through 
 their tears down the stony wilderness of 
 Judea, and across the Jordan valley towards 
 the distant Bethabara, while every sigh of 
 their stricken hearts said, " Oh ! that Jesus 
 would come." Again and again had they 
 
BETHANY. 257 
 
 questioned the messenger wlo came back from 
 Jesus with the promise of recovery, if by any 
 means they could learn the meaning of that 
 strange word. 
 
 At last Jesus himself comes to explain and 
 confirm his own message. But the blessed 
 Comforter, who brings peace to troubled hearts 
 will not go at once to the house where excited 
 friends and guests are all gathered in one 
 room, and everything is filled with the outcry 
 and ceremony of woe. If he is to do anything 
 for those who are truly afflicted, he must first 
 see them apart from their vain and noisy com- 
 forters. He stops in a quiet place by the road- 
 side, beneath the shoulder of the hill, while 
 one of his company goes up into the town to 
 tell the afflicted sisters where the Master may 
 be found. One after the other they hurry to 
 the spot and give utterance to the first gush of 
 anguish at the feet of Jesus in the same words, 
 " Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother 
 had not died." Then in that quiet spot before 
 a crowd had gathered or it was generally known 
 through the village that Jesus had come, he 
 
 22 * 
 
258 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 comforts the heart-broken sisters with his 
 calm instructive and kindly words. 
 
 So on another occasion, when Jesus came by 
 urgent request to a house which had just been 
 visited by death, and he found the friends of 
 the family filling the rooms, and the people 
 making a noise with their outcries and lamen- 
 tations, he would do nothing until the excited 
 company were put forth and the afflicted ones, 
 who needed his consolation, were able to give 
 quiet and thoughtful attention to his words. 
 
 If ever it becomes us to be still, and knc-w 
 that the Lord is God, and to give patient and 
 earnest attention to the voice of his holy prov- 
 idence, it is when he comes near us by the 
 awful visitation of death. It is a very sacred 
 and solemn season to the whole family, when 
 one of their number lies dead in the house. 
 God is there, speaking to them from the mar- 
 ble face and the silent lips which were so lately 
 full of life. It should be their chief concern 
 to understand and improve the lesson which 
 the great preacher, death, is sent to teach. God 
 has- a gracious meaning and purpose, in his 
 most afflictive dispensations, frr the instruction 
 
BETHANY. 259 
 
 of his children, and they should never let the 
 world come in, with its forms and fashions, to 
 divert their attention from their Father's voice. 
 The world is proud and pretentious even in its 
 grief. It would set up its exacting claims, and 
 enforce its capricious laws, and dictate the garb 
 and expression of sorrow in the midst of the 
 family, when a voice speaks to them from the 
 bed of death, and the open grave and the dis- 
 closed realities of judgment and eternity. 
 
 Let those, who believe in Jesus, behave them- 
 selves under affliction, as if he himself had 
 come to the house, and had sat down quietly 
 by their side to comfort them, and to teach 
 them the great lesson of submission and faith. 
 We need not be afraid to pour out all our sor- 
 rows before him, for he himself is touched 
 with the feeling of our infirmities. In the 
 days of his flesh, he expressed the anguish of 
 his own heart with strong crying and many 
 tears. When he saw others weeping around 
 him at Bethany, he himself wept and groaned 
 in spirit and was troubled. To such a Friend 
 we may surely tell all our grief. But if we 
 would receive such consolation as he alone can 
 
260 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 give, we must not let the world come in and 
 weary our hearts with its studied form, and 
 parade, and drapery of woe. 
 
 13. VAIN REGRET. 
 
 " Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother 
 had not died." The heart- stricken mourners 
 of Bethany had faith enough in Jesus to be- 
 lieve that his presence with them, at an earlier 
 day, could have saved them from their great 
 affliction. They did not dare to believe that 
 he had come to make what they most regretted 
 the occasion of their deepest and most unut- 
 terable joy. 
 
 Too soon! too late! Alas! how often the 
 words fall upon the ear like the clods of the 
 grave upon the coffin, "Too soon," mourns the 
 mother's bleeding heart when the pale shadow 
 of death settles down upon the cherub brow of 
 her innocent babe. "Too soon," answers the 
 light-hearted youth, when Jesus comes with in- 
 finite love in every look, and says, " Give me 
 thy heart, follow me." "Too soon," sighs the 
 weary and disappointed worldling, when pleas- 
 ure loses its charm and desire fails, and the 
 
BETHANY. 261 
 
 shadows of age, and disease, and death gather 
 around his path. 
 
 "Too late," moans the stricken parent, when 
 told that a wiser physician, or better remedies 
 would have saved the life of a beloved child. 
 "Too late," whispers the fainting invalid, who 
 has sought a more genial clime for recovery 
 when disease has already poisoned the fountains 
 of life. " Too late," sighs the dying sinner, who 
 is told upon the bed of death that the voice of 
 mercy still pleads for him. 
 
 And so, with multitudes, the memory of the 
 past is strewn all the way with bitter regret. 
 If only something different had been done, 
 from what has been done, then they suppose the 
 present would be all peace and the future all 
 hope. So they fondly dream, not considering 
 that what they most regret in the past may have 
 been sent in mercy, or may yet be improved so 
 as to be the occasion of endless joy in the fu- 
 ture. It is not for us to suppose that our divine 
 Deliverer has lost his interest in our welfare 
 because we cannot see his face in the dark hour 
 of trial and temptation. 
 
 The night was black with clouds and tempest 
 
262 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 upon the sea of Galilee, and a little bark, that 
 bore the teachers and reformers of the world, 
 was struggling with the waves and in danger 
 of perishing. The disciples believed that if 
 Jesus were with them on board, his presence 
 might save them in the extremity of their 
 danger. They had no thought that his eye 
 could see them through the darkness from the 
 distant shore, or that he could come to them 
 walking upon the waves. They could only 
 regret that they had put out to sea on such a 
 night, and that Jesus was left alone on the 
 land. But when he came, and the storm was 
 hushed, and the ship was safe at the shore 
 whither they went, their regret was changed 
 into joy. Then the hard rowing against the 
 wind, and the violence of the waves, and the 
 blackness of the storm, and the imminence of 
 the danger were remembered with gratitude as 
 the means of bringing forth the power and 
 glory of their Master in brighter display. 
 
 And such would be the happy result of every 
 trial and temptation to which we are exposed, 
 if we could only have faith enough to toil on, 
 and hope on, till the hour of success and deliv- 
 
BETHAXY. 263 
 
 erance comes. It is not necessary for us to see 
 the hand that guards our way. We have only 
 to press on in the course of duty at God's com- 
 mand, and if at times it seems to us that we 
 must step upon the void, we shall find the rock 
 beneath. 
 
 When disaster and disappointment have 
 befallen us, and our wisest plans and noblest 
 purposes are defeated, it does not become us to 
 mourn and despair, as if all were lost. We 
 must all find much in the past to regret. And 
 he often sees most to regret, who has been most 
 in earnest to improve his time well. But it is 
 by mistakes and failures that the conscientious 
 learn, and the diligent improve. Defeat in a 
 single battle is often the condition of success in 
 the whole campaign. The apparent withhold- 
 ing of the divine blessing for a season, prepares 
 for a more abundant harvest in the end. 
 
 The reapers find two kinds. of wheat in the 
 field in the time of harvest. One grew from 
 seed sown in the early spring. The warm sun, 
 and frequent showers, and mellow earth, caused 
 it to shoot up a rapid growth, and to bring 
 forth its mature and ripened grain, without any 
 
264 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 appearance of delay or failure. The other was 
 sown when the heat of summer was already 
 past, and the falling dews were changed to frost, 
 and the snows of winter were close at hand. 
 It had scarcely become rooted in the soil before 
 the earth was firmly locked in fetters of ice, the 
 process of growth was arrested, and, for suc- 
 cessive months, the whole vegetable world was 
 wrapped in the pall of death. But when the 
 warm spring breathed upon the earth again, 
 the winter grain was prepared to shoot up the 
 more vigorously, because the severity of frost 
 and snow had compelled it to take deeper root 
 in the earth. And the harvest is ever most 
 abundant from the grain that has been checked 
 in its first growth, cropped down and trampled 
 upon by grazing flocks, and buried beneath 
 
 drifted snow. 
 \ 
 
 So does G-od send the long, cold winter of 
 trial and delay and disappointment, to give his 
 people time to deepen and enlarge the founda- 
 tions of thsir faith. Then when the heavens 
 are opened, and the gracious rain descends, the 
 seed of the divine word, which has been sown 
 
BETHANY. 265 
 
 in patience and sorrow, springs up and brings 
 forth the most abundant harvest. 
 
 14. THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE. 
 
 " I am the resurrection and the life." These 
 are the words of a King and a Conqueror a 
 King to reign over all the gifts and joys of life, 
 a Conqueror to subdue all the fear and power 
 of death. Standing by the grave of one whom 
 he deeply loved, surrounded by weeping mourn- 
 ers, himself soon to expire upon the cross, 
 Jesus claims the keys of death. He assumes 
 the right and the power to give eternal life to 
 whom he will. He stands forth, in his living 
 person, the sole and divine champion for the 
 defense and deliverance of the human race; for 
 the arrest of that destruction which has bur- 
 dened all languages with sounds of woe, and 
 made the earth one universal grave. He is 
 not simply a prophet who comes into the world 
 upon a mission of instruction. He is himself 
 the truth, which he proclaims. He is the life, 
 which he offers to the world. . He is able to 
 destrov death, and to clothe this mortal with 
 immortality. 
 
 23 
 
266 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 These words which Jesus spoke by the road- 
 side as he drew near to Bethany, have already 
 gone out with light and blessing to the ends of 
 the earth. Ten thousand thousand times have 
 these words brought peace and hope to trou- 
 bled hearts, in the darkened chamber of suffer- 
 ing, in the hush of the house of mourning, in 
 the still presence of the dead, and beside the 
 open grave. Faith has graven the blessed 
 words upon the tomb to proclaim its triumph 
 over the king of terrors. The great host of 
 the redeemed from all lands, from all times, 
 passing on in continued procession to the hea- 
 venly Zion, have marched through the gates 
 of death to the same song. 
 
 Oh ! ye sons and daughters of affliction, who 
 go to weep at the grave of your beloved, and 
 refuse to be comforted because they come not 
 back; ye fearful and unbelieving, who dread 
 the approach of the last bitter hour, and can- 
 not bear to think of closing your eyes forever 
 upon all this living world; ye disappointed 
 and murmuring, whose earthly hopes are all 
 buried in the deep grave of the past, and 
 whose daily experience is only a renewal of 
 
BETHANY. 267 
 
 murmuring and disappointment; hear the 
 words of Jesus, " I am the resurrection and 
 the life." Not all th3 harps of heaven could 
 breathe such peace into the troubled soul as 
 all may attain through faith in the meaning 
 and mighty power of these words. Take them 
 to your hearts. Learn by experience what 
 words can never teach. Gain the victory over 
 all your sorrows, fears and disappointments by 
 trusting in him who alone has eternal life to 
 give. 
 
 The most cherished expectations of earthly 
 good may be utterly cut off. The temporal 
 possessions which have been guarded with 
 every possible security, may take wings and 
 fly away. He who labors hardest in the 
 beaten track of this earthly life, may find the 
 least reward. The rich and the poorj the old 
 and the young, the healthful and the diseased, 
 the honored and the despised will all die. No 
 one can tell in what direction his sorest disap- 
 pointment will come. No prophet of the Lord 
 will be sent to prepare the way before the mes- 
 senger of death. 
 
 And yet the word of Jesus can never fail, " He 
 
268 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 that believeth in me shall never die." The 
 hopes upon which he most relies shall ever 
 live. The sources from which he derives the 
 deepest joy shall never fail. His most precious 
 treasures shall be ever increasing in value. 
 For his greatest wants he shall be ever finding 
 a more certain and full supply. The objects 
 of desire on which he fixes his heart most 
 intently, shall grow in value the more severely 
 he tests their worth. The most cherished 
 attachments which he forms in the journey of 
 life, shall be renewed and confirmed forever in 
 a better land. One infinite Friend who can 
 command and bestow all possible blessing- 
 shall always be ready to do for him exceeding 
 abundantly, above all that he can ask or think. 
 The grave shall be to him the gateway of life, 
 and through its dark portals he shall pass into 
 the land of endless light. 
 
 Surely of such an one it is safe to say, " He 
 shall never die." He shall never lose the joy, 
 the glory, the blessedness of that life whose 
 ever-flowing fountain is faith in the Son of 
 God. 
 
BETHANY. 269 
 
 15. JESUS WEPT. 
 
 Xerxes wept when he surveyed the millions 
 of his army covering the plains, and the thou- 
 sands of his ships whitening the sea, and he 
 thought how soon the living host would all 
 moulder down to dust. Alexander of Mace- 
 don wept when he found himself the master of 
 the world, and yet less satisfied than he was 
 when he began the career of conquest. The 
 hero of a hundred battles, the idolized com- 
 mander of a half million of warriors, the au- 
 tocrat of kings who cast down thrones and 
 changed the destiny of nations, wept over the 
 body of one poor soldier slain in his service. 
 
 There is something very awful in the tears 
 as well as in the power and wrath of such 
 mighty conquerors. They rule the destiny of 
 millions. They make themselves the terror of 
 nations, Their movements are watched, as 
 men watch the progress of the pestilence in 
 fear lest it shall come among them. By the 
 flattery of friends and the fear of subjects they 
 are exalted as gods. But their tears prove 
 
270 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 them to be men, weak, passionate, disappointed, 
 helpless men. 
 
 But the tears of the Son of God wept at the 
 grave of Lazarus, and over the impending 
 woes of unhappy Jerusalem, have a far deeper 
 and more awful meaning than the tears of 
 human weakness, or humbled pride, or disap- 
 pointed ambition. He did not weep because 
 the mighty work which he had undertaken to 
 do surpassed his power, or because the desire 
 of his soul had failed to be satisfied. It is a 
 most astonishing proof of the depth of his 
 sympathy that he should weep with the afflicted 
 while yet he possessed the power to restore the 
 dead to life. He could bring back the lost 
 treasure, but he could not be insensible to the 
 grief of those who mourned as if it could never 
 be recovered. However full and satisfying the 
 consolation which he was able to bestow, he 
 must weep with those who wept around him. 
 So the mother subjects the little child to a brief 
 disappointment, to inculcate the spirit of obe- 
 dience, and yet she weeps from sympathy with 
 the child's grief, while intending to bestow a 
 richer gratification in the end. Jesus wept be- 
 
BETHANY. 271 
 
 cause the depth of his own sympathy made the 
 grief which others felt as real to him as it was 
 to them. This is the astonishing revelation 
 which baffles all reason, and dazzles the vision 
 of the loftiest faith; the sympathy of the infi- 
 nite One with the grief of our poor hearts. 
 There is nothing in prophecy, nothing in mira- 
 cles, nothing in the whole creation, so new, so 
 wonderful, so enrapturing as the expression of 
 the divine pity in the tears of the weeping Son 
 of God. 
 
 And then again, Jesus must have been moved 
 by something more than the sorrow of the lit- 
 tle company around him, when he groaned in 
 spirit and was troubled even to tears. He saw 
 indeed quite enough to make him weep in the 
 affliction which death had brought upon one 
 quiet and beloved family. But besides all that, 
 he bore upon his heart the sorrows and the des- 
 olations of ages. His ear was open to the wail 
 of the suffering and afflicted in all lands, in all 
 times. To him, the woes of the whole human 
 race broke forth in one exceeding great and 
 bitter cry, and his soul was in agony to relieve 
 them all. He could hear the moan of the great 
 
272 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 ocean of human grief breaking from its un- 
 sounded depths upon all the shores of time, 
 and rolling the awful burden of sorrow into the 
 abyss of eternity. He knew that the history 
 of millions for ages to come, would be written 
 in blood and blotted with tears. 
 
 He could comfort the bereaved sisters of 
 Bethany by awakening their brother from the 
 sleep of death. But the mighty miracle itself 
 would be only a drop of consolation to the in- 
 finite ocean of human grief. The risen Laza- 
 rus must die again. The comforted sisters 
 must mourn again. Themselves and all dear 
 to them must die. The pitiless ravages of 
 death must go on through all the earth. In 
 the very hour when one was raised from the 
 tomb, thousands would die. While the heart 
 of Jesus was moved with infinite pity for all 
 the afflicted and suffering, and with the desire 
 to relieve them all, he knew how hard it would 
 be to arrest the tide of human woe. While he 
 was willing to give his own life-blood to put 
 out the torturing fires of guilt and remorse in 
 the human soul, he knew that even that sacri- 
 fice would fail to save many. All this sin and 
 
BETHANY. 273 
 
 sorrow of a weeping and dying world, being 
 represented to the mind of Jesus by the grief 
 of the little company about him at Bethany, 
 he wept. He groaned in spirit and was trou- 
 bled. 
 
 The tears of Jesus, the deep and unaf- 
 fected sorrow of the divine and holy Saviour, 
 shows better than anything else how exceed- 
 ingly evil and bitter a thing we have all done 
 in forsaking the fountain of living waters. 
 God might thunder denunciations against sin 
 from the heavens every hour. He might 
 write threatenings in letters of fire upon the 
 sky every night. He might cause the earth to 
 groan and belch forth fires in every land and 
 the billows of the ocean to lift up their voices 
 on every shore in wrathful testimony against 
 transgression. And yet all that array of terror 
 would not show us as deeply, as sadly as the 
 tears of Jesus how dreadful a thing it is to 
 sin, how hard a task it is for infinite power to 
 save from the consequences of sin. 
 
 That a holy being should weep, that the Son 
 of God should be troubled in spirit, that the 
 divine Saviour hould be bowed down with 
 
274 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 anguish and utter his sorrows in groans and 
 tears, is indeed a mystery that may cause the 
 heavens to wonder and the earth to be aston- 
 ished. It can be explained only by admitting 
 that the evil of sin is infinite, and that the sal- 
 vation of sinners is a work for the utmost 
 resources of infinite power. That mighty One 
 who wept by the grave of Lazarus, could walk 
 the waves, and hush the storm, and create 
 abundance in the desert, and call to his aid 
 legions of angels, and raise the dead. But 
 he took on himself a greater task in be- 
 coming a Man of sorrows, and in bearing the 
 sins of a lost world. In executing that great 
 commission, he must destroy death. He must 
 deliver those whom sin had bound in everlast- 
 ing chains. He must spoil the powers of dark- 
 ness and return to his heavenly throne, with 
 redemption for the brightest of his many 
 crowns. He must lift up the guilty and fallen 
 from their degradation, make them equal with 
 angels, sharers of his glory and kings forever 
 unto God. And he must do all that in such a 
 way as to maintain justice, and encourage 
 obedience, to honor the divine law and to cover 
 
BETHANY. 275 
 
 the pride and power of sin with everlasting 
 contempt. No wonder that the Son of God 
 himself, under the pressure of such a burden, 
 groaned in spirit and wept with an anguish 
 that was deeper than the utmost depths of 
 human sorrow. 
 
 While then Jesus wept in sympathy with 
 the little company of mourners around him, 
 while his own heart felt the blow which had 
 fallen upon his beloved friend, he wept still 
 more bitterly for those who would not believe 
 though the dead should come back to life before 
 their eyes ; for the deeper and more awful 
 death by which the souls of millions were held 
 in hopeless captivity to sin ; for the madness 
 of multitudes who should hear the word of 
 life in their day of visitation and reject it; for 
 the strange infatuation of those who should 
 admit the truth of that word and pay all out- 
 ward respect to its ministrations, and yet 
 never receive it to their hearts ; for the whole 
 race of man, so slow to believe, so hard to be 
 reclaimed, while countless woes in every land, 
 and remorse in every heart testify to the need 
 of a Saviour ; for the one great apostacy from 
 
276 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 God which has filled all human homes with 
 sorrow, and loaded all the languages of men 
 with words of woe, and enticed countless mul- 
 titudes into the broad way of destruction, and 
 peopled the regions of darkness with lost 
 souls ; for this did Jesus weep ; for this the 
 heavens might well be dissolved in tears and 
 the whole creation groan and travail in pain 
 together. To arrest the progress of this 
 world-wide and infinite woe, the Son of God 
 wrestled in pain and sorrow till the sweat 
 wrung out from his great agony fell like drops 
 of blood upon the ground. For this he bowed 
 himself at last in death upon the cross. 
 
 The words with which the evangelist de- 
 scribes the feelings of Jesus as he approached 
 the tomb, express indignation, as well as grief. 
 We ask at what the weeping and compassionate 
 Saviour could be indignant at such a moment. 
 We can only say that his anger burned against 
 the cause which has done and will still do so 
 much to fill the world with wailing and despair. 
 He who could pour out his pity for sinners in 
 flowing tears, must still regard sin itself as the 
 fit subject of indignation and wrath. He was 
 
BETHANY. 277 
 
 willing to suffer and die that the guilty might 
 be saved, but he could not be indifferent to the 
 enormity of their sin. And in the end, those 
 who reject his offered love, will have nothing 
 in the universe so much to fear as the displeas- 
 ure of him who died for their salvation. They 
 will pray to be covered by the rocks and moun- 
 tains of a burning world rather than to meet 
 the " wrath of the Lamb." 
 
 16. TAKE YE AWAY THE STONE. 
 
 And now Jesus, groaning in himself cometh 
 to the grave. It was a cave and a stone lay 
 upon it. The chief mourners gather closely 
 around him, and curious spectators follow to 
 hear what will be said and to see what will be 
 done. This mighty Son of Grod whose voice 
 the dead in their graves shall all hear, stands 
 at the door of the tomb in which his beloved 
 friend lies buried. But he pauses in the mo- 
 ment when all eyes are fixed upon him with 
 the most intense and painful expectation, and 
 he looks around him for human help. His in- 
 finite and divine power will not perform the 
 mighty miracle of raising the dead, until hu- 
 
 24 
 
278 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 man hands have performed the common and 
 trifling task of taking away the stone. 
 
 He can summon legions of angels and they 
 will come at his call. He can bid the moun- 
 tains depart and the hills remove, and they 
 will obey his word. But he stands at the tomb 
 of his buried friend, as if his were the feeblest 
 hand in all the company, and he says to those 
 around him, " Take ye away the stone." His 
 divine power will not display itself in the 
 mighty work of raising the dead, unless the 
 feeble, the afflicted, and the helpless shall per- 
 form their part and prepare the way. The 
 stone lies heavy and cold at the door of the 
 tomb, and the body of the buried Lazarus, lies 
 as dead and cold within, yet the voice of the 
 Son of God will not be heard by the silent 
 sleeper ; he will not know that Jesus stands so 
 near, unless the helping hands of men shall 
 roll away the stone. 
 
 The feeble faith of the afflicted fails them in 
 the very moment when all their grief is about 
 to be changed to a new and surprising joy. 
 They interpose objections and hindrances in the 
 way of Jesus, just as he is ready to speak the 
 
BETHANY. 279 
 
 word which will lift the heaviest burden from 
 their hearts. " Oh ! no. Take not away the 
 stone. We cannot bear to look upon the face 
 of our brother, changed as it is now by the de- 
 cay and the revolting ghastliness of death. 
 We would remember him as we saw him in 
 the pale and placid slumber of death, with the 
 gentle smile, with which he bade us farewell, 
 still lingering upon his lip. No, no, take not 
 away the stone. It is too late. There is no 
 trace of life or loveliness left upon the face of 
 our beloved, and we cannot bear the sight." 
 
 So the broken-hearted mourners of Bethany 
 hesitate and hold back the arm of infinite 
 power, when Jesus stands before them and they 
 have only to do his bidding and their lost 
 brother shall be restored to life again. A word 
 of his could cast that stone into the depths of 
 the sea. But he pauses and reasons with the 
 afflicted ones, and persuades them to permit 
 him to help them in his own way and to use 
 the aid which he chooses in his divine work. 
 Infinite power and infinite mercy wait for the 
 consent of human hearts and the help of human 
 hands. If the afflicted will not take his word, 
 
280 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 if those who stand around will not put forth 
 their effort as if divine power needed their aid, 
 the miracle will not be performed, the dead 
 will not be raised, the living will be left to 
 mourn for their beloved as those who refuse to 
 be comforted. 
 
 It is upon like conditions that Jesus 
 still performs his mighty work of raising to 
 spiritual life those who are dead in trespasses 
 and in sins. There is much for human faith 
 and human hands to do, before the cold dead 
 world will hear the voice of the Son of God 
 and wake to new life. Jesus comes and stands 
 in the midst of communities and congregations, 
 ready to speak the word which thousands must 
 hear or never see life. But he lurns to his 
 friends, his followers, his consecrated and cov- 
 enanted disciples, who have besought him to 
 come, and he waits for them to take the cold 
 and heavy stone of unbelief from their own 
 hearts. He will awake the dead ; he will make 
 the nations hear his voice; he will fill the habi- 
 tations of the living with the songs of ransomed 
 and immortal millions, if only his followers 
 
BETHANY. 281 
 
 will have faith in his presence and in his power 
 to save. 
 
 There is many a city now as of old where 
 Jesus is restrained from carrying on his mighty 
 work of conversion and salvation, by the unbe- 
 lief of his own disciples. If they could only 
 have faith, they would see the glory of God in 
 the coming forth of thousands to the new life 
 of love and consecration to Christ. The sceptic 
 may scoff, the indifferent may pass idly by, the 
 curious may wonder and speculate, and none 
 may dream that themselves are ever to be 
 brought humbly and penitently to bow at the 
 feet of Jesus. And yet they will hear his 
 voice and he will make them all his own, as 
 soon as his friends and followers venture to 
 take him at his word when he says, "All 
 things are possible to them that believe." 
 
 It is not money, nor talent, nor learning, nor 
 opportunity so much as faith that the church 
 needs to fulfil its great commission to make 
 disciples of all nations. No arguments of the 
 sceptic, no opposition of the wicked, no indif- 
 ference of the worldly can stand before the 
 truth speaking by the faith, and toil and sac- 
 
 24* 
 
282 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 rifice of a united and consecrated church. All 
 the riches and power and glory of the earth 
 shall be given to the followers of Christ, when 
 once they have faith enough to give all they 
 have to him. The world, that lies dead in 
 trespasses and sins, shall hear the voice of the 
 Son of God and come forth to new life, when 
 the followers of Jesus arise at his command and 
 roll away the stone of unbelief from their own 
 hearts. 
 
 17. LIFE FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 And now the rock is rolled away, and the 
 silent company stand before the open tomb, in 
 the hush of breathless and awful expectation. 
 The last act of human faith is done, and the 
 believing mourners are waiting to see the glory 
 of God. If the voice of Jesus avails in this 
 case to call back the lost life, it must be a dis- 
 play of the same power which gh es life to all 
 creatures that live. The daughter of Jairus at 
 Capernaum had been but a little while dead, 
 when Jesus touched her hand, and her spirit 
 came again. The grave had not yet received 
 the young man, when Jesus touched the bier at 
 
BETHANY. 283 
 
 the gate of Nam, and he that was dead rose up 
 and began to speak. In such a case, the cavi- 
 ler might say that the apparent death was 
 only a trance, and the asserted miracle of the 
 restoration was only a natural waking from 
 sleep. 
 
 But here is a grave opened so long after the 
 burial, that living friends shrink from behold- 
 ing the form of their beloved in decay. Here 
 stands the Prince of life, face to face with the 
 revolting aspect and the dread reality of death. 
 Will he have power to make his voice heard, 
 in that mysterious world where the soul of 
 Lazarus has been so many days wandering or 
 at rest? Will the dark kingdom of death 
 throw open its inexorable doors, and permit its 
 new subject to return, in answer to the call of 
 the Son of man ? Shall the emancipated spirit, 
 having once escaped from its fetters and flown 
 forth upon the boundless range of the universe, 
 return at the command of Jesus, and consent 
 to take up its old burden of suffering flesh, and 
 tread the narrow round of its earthly prison- 
 house again ? 
 
 Such is the awful te? 4 to which the power, 
 
284 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 the authority and the whole divine mission of 
 Jesus are subjected, at the tomb of Lazarus. 
 In the company of silent and wondering spec- 
 tators that stand around, are represented the 
 whole race of man held in bondage to death, 
 and waiting to see whether the word of their 
 offered Deliverer shall avail to throw open the 
 doors of their prison-house, and set them free. 
 If the departed soul of Lazarus comes not back 
 at the call of Jesus, then there is no hope for 
 man, and the wide world is given over to the 
 endless and absolute dominion of death. If 
 this changed and ghastly form, now as lifeless 
 as the earth and rock of the tomb, shall re- 
 spond to the voice of Jesus, and stand forth in 
 the fullness of restored life, then surely all 
 may live by faith in him. Trusting in this 
 mighty Conqueror, we can triumph over the 
 one great destroyer, whose presence has filled 
 every earthly home with desolation, and whose 
 dread has covered the unseen world with the 
 pall of darkness and horror. 
 
 Imagining ourselves standing with the wait- 
 ing company at the grave of Lazarus, and 
 knowing that such mighty consequences depend 
 
BETHANY. 285 
 
 upon the utterance of the word when Jesus 
 cries with a loud voice, "CoME FORTH," we are 
 breathless with expectation. Like the weeping 
 sisters, who most desired to see the face of their 
 restored brother, we are almost afraid to have 
 him speak the word which, when spoken, must 
 confirm or extinguish our dearest hopes for- 
 ever. 
 
 But Jesus himself is calm. He no longer 
 weeps, now that he has the work of infinite 
 power to do. His prayer unto his Father is a 
 thanksgiving, and his call upon the dead is a 
 command as quickly obeyed as spoken. The 
 form, so changed with decay that friends feared 
 to look upon it, stands forth before all the com- 
 pany a living man, waiting only to be loosed 
 from his grave-clothes, to return to his home in 
 the strength and beauty of his young manhood. 
 It is not the slow recovery by which the dying 
 sometimes come back, with feeble step and 
 fainting breath, from the borders of the grave. 
 It is not as when a strong man wakes suddenly 
 from deep sleep, bewildered and lost. This 
 deeper sleep of death passes instantaneously, 
 at the word of Jesus, into full and conscious 
 
286 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 life. And again the mighty One, who has per- 
 formed the divine work of restoration, looks 
 around him for the help of human hands to 
 loose the bands with which the dead was bound 
 and let the living go. 
 
 So evermore must the human and divine co- 
 operate in the mighty work of delivering cap- 
 tive souls from the bands of spiritual death. 
 The voice of the Son of Grod alone can break 
 the slumber of those who are dead in trespasses 
 and sins. But human faith can do much to 
 prepare the way for the divine work ; and hu- 
 man effort must ever be put forth to improve 
 and confirm the victory which divine power 
 has gained. 
 
 Human curiosity searches the inspired re- 
 cord in vain, to find what recollections the re- 
 stored Lazarus brought back from that un- 
 seen world where his spirit was wandering 
 while his body rested in the tomb. It was not 
 to gratify such curiosity that Jesus unbarred 
 the gates of death and brought back the soul 
 of his beloved friend. It was rather to prove 
 beyond all question that the sceptre of his 
 power is supreme over both worlds, and that 
 
BETHANY. 287 
 
 those who trust in him can never go beyond 
 the hearing of his voice or the reach of his 
 hand. 
 
 The most acute of modern sceptics confesses 
 that if the resurrection of Lazarus be a reality 
 it demonstrates the divine authority of the 
 whole Gospel, and shuts up every candid mind 
 to the logical necessity of believing in Jesus 
 as the Son of God and the Saviour of the 
 world. It is only necessary that the sacred 
 record shall be studied with the same faith and 
 fairness which the severest critics accord to 
 other portions of ancient history, in order that 
 the reality of the resurrection may be estab- 
 lished beyond question, and that this mighty 
 miracle of Bethany may stand forth in com- 
 plete and glorious demonstration of all that 
 man need believe to be saved. This beloved 
 and truthful man of Bethany, who came back 
 from the unseen world at the word of Jesus, 
 testifies by his life to all readers of the Gospel 
 history, that Jesus is Lord both of the dead 
 and the living. He has proved his power to 
 destroy death, and with him for a friend the 
 weak can conquer the mightiest foe, and the 
 
288 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 timid can face the king of terrors without 
 fear. 
 
 Jesus raised the dead body of Lazarus to life, 
 that all might trust in his power to restore spirit- 
 ual life to those who are dead in trespasses and 
 sins. He performs this greater miracle even 
 now, before the eyes of men, whenever a weary, 
 sin-burdened soul is drawn to him for rest. This 
 new creation of fallen men to eternal life and 
 glory by the power of Jesus is the great won- 
 der which this material and doubting age finds 
 it hardest to believe. The philosophy of the 
 day undertakes the task of explaining all 
 phenomena, both of the material and the spir- 
 itual world, without admitting the supernatu- 
 ral interference of divine power. Common 
 life is taken up more and more with toil and 
 hurry and social competition. And between 
 the two extremes, there are too few to say, 
 "We would see Jesus." There is too little sen- 
 sibility to the awful and glorious truth that 
 divine power is still in the world to make a 
 new creation of spiritual life in the hearts of 
 men, as instantaneously as Lazarus came forth 
 from the tomb at the word of Jesus. And yet 
 
BETHANY. 2*9 
 
 all the true progress of the world towards a 
 higher and better life, must spring from a 
 more full acceptance of this divine theory of 
 spiritual creation, according to which the dead 
 in trespasses and sins are made new creatures in 
 Christ Jesus. The power to make wicked men 
 holy, to change the ruling purpose of the 
 heart from bad to good, is more needed for the 
 improvement of mankind, than the power to 
 multiply the productions of the earth, the 
 inventions of art, or the discoveries of science. 
 When once Christ has brought men into sym- 
 pathy with himself by the mighty appeal of 
 his cross, they become joint-heirs with him of 
 the whole boundless creation, and they have 
 before them the ages of eternity in which to 
 enjoy their possessions. 
 
 When Jesus performed the great miracle of 
 Bethany, he took a decisive step towards the 
 appointed completion of his earthly life. The 
 work was seen by jealous eyes, and it was soon 
 reported in all Jerusalem, with such comments 
 as malice and falsehood could make. His ene- 
 mies saw that what they did for his destruc- 
 tion, must be done quickly; for they could not 
 
290 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 long inflame the passions of the people against 
 one, who could call the dead from the grave in 
 the open light of day, in the presence of many 
 witnesses, and with the power of a single word. 
 From that day forth they took counsel together 
 how they might put him to death. But his 
 hour was not yet fully come. He must make 
 one circuit more of instruction and mercy, upon 
 the borders of Samaria and Gralilee, and when 
 he returns, two months later, to Bethany for the 
 last time, the great week of his passion has al- 
 ready begun. From this mountain village, 
 where he restored the dead to life, he must go 
 forth to his own death. From this quiet home 
 where he had been received so many times with 
 loving hospitality, he must pass through the 
 mockeries of Jerusalem and the agony of the 
 cross, to his Father's house and his heavenly 
 throne. 
 
JERUSALEM. 
 
Behold, we go up to Jerusalem ; and the Son of man shall be 
 be frayed unto the chief priests and unto the scribes, and they shall 
 condemn him to death, and shall deliver him to the Gentiles to 
 mock, and to scourge and to crucify him. MATT. xx. 18, 19. 
 
VIII. 
 
 JERUSALEM. 
 
 RIVEN from Bethlehem by the wrath 
 of a king, expelled from Nazareth by 
 the violence of the people, received at 
 Capernaum at first only to be rejected at last, 
 denied the protection of the three homes which 
 were his by birth, by residence, and by adoption, 
 Jesus comes to Jerusalem to be betrayed and 
 to Calvary to die. Thirty years of retirement, 
 and three years of public ministry are all that 
 the world will endure of its Messiah. It is 
 not enough to secure him acceptance that he 
 heals the sick, and feeds the hungry, and raises 
 the dead. It is not enough that he speaks as 
 never man spake, and does the works which no 
 man ever did, and endures the contradiction of 
 sinners with the meekness and majesty .of infi- 
 nite love. 
 
 He must go down to a still lower depth in 
 
 25 * 293 
 
294 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 humiliation ; he must take upon his soul the 
 burden of a greater agony ; he must give his 
 very life in sacrifice, before the stony walls of 
 prejudice and hatred and unbelief will yield 
 and give him access to the hearts of men. The 
 testimony of the divine love must be confirmed 
 by the infinite argument of the cross, before 
 the world will accept its own Redeemer or con- 
 sent to be saved. 
 
 We cannot observe our Lord too closely 
 while he is passing through the closing scenes 
 of his earthly life. We have something to 
 learn from every step which he takes, in his 
 firm and sure approach to the great sacrifice of 
 Calvary. 
 
 1. THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRY. 
 
 His first entrance into Jerusalem on the 
 solemn week of his passion, has the appearance 
 of a triumph. He had walked up the wild and 
 weary road from Jericho and from the Fords of 
 the Jordan to Bethany, and had spent his last 
 earthly Sabbath at the house of his friends in 
 that mountain village. It was the week of the 
 Passover, and multitudes of pilgrims were on 
 
JERUSALEM. 295 
 
 their way from Galilee, to keep the great festi- 
 val in the Holy city. Some remained with him 
 at Bethany on the day of rest ; many passed 
 over the brow of Olivet and encamped in the 
 gardens and orchards on the western slope of 
 the mountain, every where spreading the tid- 
 ings that the Prophet of Nazareth was two 
 miles off at Bethany, and would appear in the 
 city before the feast had closed. 
 
 On the afternoon of Sunday, the first day 
 of the Jewish week, Jesus renewed his journey, 
 accompanied by a great multitude from Be- 
 thany, who were eager to witness his reception 
 in the city. He set forth knowingly and will- 
 ingly to meet his death, when the new life of 
 the year had come, and the whole land was 
 green and blossoming with the glory of spring. 
 Taking the most traveled road over the south- 
 ern ridge of Olivet, he was joined by a still 
 greater multitude, who had heard of his com- 
 ing, and had gone forth from the camps on the 
 hill-sides and from the streets of Jerusalem to 
 meet him. When the two great processions 
 met, the one which came from the direction of 
 the city turned and went before, and the other 
 
296 
 
 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 which started out from Bethany followed, with 
 Jesus in the midst, and, both united, rent the 
 air with shouts that were heard in all the streets 
 
 REA- SHARP 
 
 and on all the hill -sides round about Jerusalem. 
 Branches were broken from the palms by the 
 way-side and hastily braided into mattings to 
 
JERUSALEM. 297 
 
 carpet the road. Others still more enthusiastic 
 threw off their outer garments and spread them 
 in the way to be trodden upon by the beast 
 that bore the Son of David. And so far were 
 the excited multitude from exaggerating the 
 greatness of the occasion by their shouts and 
 demonstrations of joy, that Jesus himself said, 
 the stones would immediately cry out were the 
 people to hold their peace. 
 
 Rounding the southern ridge of the moun- 
 tain, and coming out upon a level platform of 
 rock, Jesus beheld, across the deep ravine of 
 the Kidron, the whole magnificent city in one 
 full and instantaneous view. Conspicuous above 
 everything else the golden domes and pinnacles 
 of the temple rise before him like the flame of 
 a mighty sacrifice. The whole mass of com- 
 pact streets and stone houses within the walls, 
 is crowded with people, and among the gardens 
 and vineyards on all the hill-sides facing the 
 city are encamped thousands upon thousands 
 who have come up to the great national Feast. 
 All this vast population is moved at his coming, 
 and the multitude around him lift up their 
 voices in cries of welcome, so loud that some 
 
298 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 within the city walls, hearing the sound said, 
 "The world has gone after him." 
 
 At this moment of supreme triumph, Jesus 
 weeps. Not for himself, although he well knew 
 that before that week should close, the hosannas 
 of the multitudes would give place to the cry, 
 "crucify him." Not because his work had 
 failed and his mission must close in defeat and 
 disappointment. He weeps over doomed and 
 blinded Jerusalem, because she knows not the 
 time of her visitation. He weeps because the 
 last and utmost appeal which he can make to 
 the hearts of men by his death on the cross 
 will still be rejected by many to their own de- 
 struction. He weeps because many, by contin- 
 ued impenitence and unbelief, would bring on 
 themselves wrath unto the uttermost, when 
 they might have been saved with a full and 
 everlasting salvation. 
 
 And so Jesus begins the great week of his 
 passion with triumph and with tears. The 
 earthly triumph will soon be past. But it will 
 give place to another, when he shall have led 
 captivity captive, and the angelic host shall 
 form the dazzling procession, and the everlast- 
 
JERUSALEM. 299 
 
 ing gates of heaven shall be lifted up that the 
 king of glory may come in. The sorrow with 
 which Jesus weeps over Jerusalem, shall give 
 place to joy, when he shall look back upon the 
 travail of his soul, and be satisfied with the 
 fruits of his toil and suffering. 
 
 2. STEPS TOWARDS THE CROSS. 
 
 From this time forward, Jesus pursued the 
 open and avowed course which he knew must 
 
 bring him to the cross. For a time he had 
 avoided publicity, and had kept himself out of 
 
300 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 the reach of those who were plotting together 
 at Jerusalem, to put him to death. But now 
 the work of teaching is done, the evidences of 
 his divine mission are complete, and he goes 
 voluntarily to put himself in the way of his 
 enemies, that their malice may become the in- 
 strument of completing the great sacrifice for 
 the world's redemption. 
 
 Descending the western slope of Olivet and 
 crossing the Kidron, Jesus entered the city at 
 St. Stephen's gate, and went up and showed 
 himself in the courts of the temple, with the 
 singing and shouting multitudes still around 
 him. The whole city was moved. The scribes 
 read the law with none to listen, and the priests 
 were left alone with the evening sacrifice, for 
 everybody had joined the eager crowd that 
 were swaying and surging to and -fro in the en- 
 deavor to see and to hear the Prophet of Naz- 
 areth. 
 
 Having looked around silently upon all 
 things, Jesus left the temple and the city, and 
 returned to Bethany for the night. The first 
 decisive step towards the great sacrifice had 
 been taken. He had shown himself the object 
 
JERUSALEM. 301 
 
 of supreme interest to the multitude, and so 
 had excited the envy and hatred of their cus- 
 tomary leaders to the highest degree. He had 
 come once more within their reach, and they 
 were already intent upon new plans to destroy 
 him. It will take them yet four days more to 
 complete their dark counsels, and then when 
 they demand the victim, he will hold himself 
 ready for the sacrifice. 
 
 Monday he came back to the city, and made 
 a still more striking exhibition of the power 
 of his presence over men, by causing all that 
 bought and sold in the temple to leave the holy 
 place, and to take their tables and merchandise 
 with them at his command. Hardened, selfish 
 and calculating as they were, they could not 
 withstand the authority with which he spoke. 
 The blind, the sick and the lame were brought 
 to him in great numbers and he healed them. 
 The populace had been induced by threats or 
 persuasion to hold their peace, but the children 
 in the temple took up the songs and the cries 
 of the previous day, and sung, "Hosanna to 
 the Son of David." When the priests and the 
 scribes demanded his authority for what he 
 
 26 
 
302 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 did, he put them to shame before all the peo- 
 ple by the wisdom of his reply. And so when 
 evening was come, he went back to Bethany, 
 leaving them still more enraged and intent 
 upon seeking his death. 
 
 3. THE LAST DAY OF PUBLIC TEACHING. 
 
 Tuesday, he came again to the city and this 
 was his last day of public teaching. His ene- 
 mies assailed him in greater numbers and with 
 greater subtility than ever before. When one 
 was silenced another would renew the assault, 
 all alike endeavoring to ensnare him in his 
 words, and to draw from him some expression 
 which could be used as an accusation against 
 him before the magistrates. But all in vain. 
 They only induced him to set forth before all 
 the people, by new parables and in a more 
 awful light, the dreadful doom which they 
 would bring on themselves, on the temple .and 
 the holy city, by rejecting their own Messiah. 
 He pronounced the most fearful woes upon the 
 blind and bigoted leaders of the people in their 
 hearing and then left them. This was enough. 
 The priests and scribes will see to it that the 
 
JERUSALEM. 303 
 
 dreaded voice of their Reprover shall not be 
 heard in the courts of the temple, or in the 
 streets of the city any more. To-night the great 
 council will meet in secret session at the palace 
 of the high priest, and the betrayer will be 
 there, to bargain for the reward of iniquity, in 
 delivering Jesus into their hands. 
 
 4. THE LAST LOOK AT JERUSALEM. 
 
 On his way out to Bethany that evening, 
 Jesus paused before passing the ridge of Olivet 
 and sat down with his disciples, over against 
 the temple, to look back upon Jerusalem for 
 the last time. The sun was setting, and the 
 whole city, with the surrounding valleys and 
 hill-sides alive with the cam.ps of pilgrims, lay 
 beneath him in the evening light. The his- 
 tory of a thousand years, the divine oracles 
 speaking by a thousand voices, the monuments 
 of prophets, patriarchs and kings, the vis-' 
 itations of angels, miraculous interpositions 
 in judgment and in blessing, from the offering 
 of Isaac and the building of the temple, were 
 present to him, as he looked upon Moriah and 
 Zion, and heard the murmur and the evening 
 
304 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 songs of a million people gathered within and 
 around the walls of the holy city. Nowhere on 
 earth was it possible to find another scene of 
 such commanding interest as that which lay 
 before the eye of Jesus, when he turned to look 
 upon Jerusalem for the last time. And there 
 he sat till the sun went down and the stars 
 shone, and the already risen moon grew bright 
 over the mountains of Moab. There he poured 
 forth, in the most solemn and touching words, 
 prophecy and warning and instruction, con- 
 cerning the desolation of Jerusalem, the dis- 
 persion of the Jewish people, the preaching 
 of the gospel to all nations, and his own final 
 coming to judge the world in righteousness. 
 He closed this, the most awful and sublime of 
 all his discourses, with the distinct and solemn 
 declaration that after two days he should be 
 betrayed and crucified. Then he resumed his 
 walk to Bethany and rested for the night. 
 
 5. THE REPOSE OF PREPARATION. 
 
 The whole of the following day, Wednesday, 
 he spent in retirement at his chosen and quiet 
 home in Bethany. His public work was done, 
 
JERUSALEM. 305 
 
 and while his enemies were completing their 
 plans for his destruction, he would take a little 
 time to gird up his soul for the trial of mockery 
 and scourging, and for the crowning agony of 
 the cross. He would need the repose of two 
 quiet days to prepare himself for the last sleep- 
 less night, and for the long torture of the last 
 dreadful day. When he leaves the quiet vil- 
 lage for the last time on Thursday afternoon, 
 he goes to be betrayed and crucified. His 
 whole body and soul and spirit will be tasked 
 with the most exhausting and unceasing inten- 
 sity, until he bows his head in death at the 
 ninth hour, on Friday afternoon. 
 
 6. THE LAST NIGHT. 
 
 As the evening of Thursday draws near, 
 Jesus sets forth upon his last walk with his 
 disciples before his passion. We do not know 
 what words of farewell were spoken when he 
 parted with his beloved friends at Bethany, 
 they fondly hoping to see him return to lodge 
 with them as before, and he well knowing that 
 his next resting place would be the grave. We 
 are not told what he said to his disciples as he 
 
 26 * 
 
306 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 walked with them up the same steep, or down 
 the same descent of Olivet, where the multi- 
 tudes hailed his coming with hosannas four 
 days before. We do not know whether in si- 
 lence, or with weeping, or with comforting 
 words, he passed Grethsemane and crossed the 
 Kidron, and climbed up the ascent to St. 
 Stephen's gate. But from the moment of his 
 arrival at the upper chamber in the city, where 
 the passover was prepared, we may well im- 
 agine that his countenance wore an unwonted 
 tenderness and solemnity, and that the wonder- 
 ing disciples saw the foreshadowing signs of 
 the final agony upon him. The awful history 
 of this last night and the following day, will be 
 studied with wonder and adoration by angels 
 and by redeemed men forever. We can now 
 only recite its most familiar facts as a prepara- 
 tion for the lessons of the cross, with which 
 this book must close. 
 
 Just about to complete his earthly humilia- 
 tion and to return to the throne of heaven 
 with all power in his hands and all glory upon 
 his head, Jesus teaches his disciples the great- 
 ness of humility. While they are contending 
 
JERUSALEM. 307 
 
 with each other for the highest place in his 
 promised kingdom, he girds himself as a ser- 
 vant and washes the feet of them that call him 
 Lord. Just about to offer himself, the pure 
 and spotless Lamb of God, in the great and 
 only efficacious sacrifice for sin, he finishes the 
 sacrifices of four thousand years by eating the 
 Passover with his disciples. In place of the 
 national festival which the Jewish people had 
 observed from the days of Moses, he institutes 
 a memorial service, to be kept by his followers 
 of every nation to the end of time. As he 
 looks around upon the chosen company of his 
 disciples, the dark shadow of coming treachery 
 overclouds and troubles his soul, and groaning 
 within himself, he nerves his heart to make 
 the sad declaration, " Yerily, verily, I say unto 
 you, that one of you shall betray me." The 
 disclosure makes the company of the disciples 
 and the presence of the Master intolerable to 
 the traitor, He goes immediately out, and it 
 is night night in the streets of blinded and 
 abandonf d Jerusalem, night in the councils of 
 the enemies of Jesus, night in the soul of the 
 
308 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 betrayer, night upon the path which he must 
 tread forever. 
 
 No sooner has the dark shadow of the trai- 
 tor's presence left the room, than the troubled 
 cloud passes from the face of Jesus and he 
 turns to his remaining disciples with the light 
 of heaven in his look. And now he pours 
 forth his soul in words of love, of counsel and 
 of prayer which shall outlive the languages of 
 earth, and shall be sung by blest voices to the 
 music of heaven. He himself joins with his 
 disciples in singing the great Hallelujah song 
 with which Israel had closed the Passover for 
 a thousand years, " Praise the Lord all ye na- 
 tions, praise him all ye people, for his merciful 
 kindness is great towards us, his mercy endur- 
 eth forever." 
 
 He knows where the betrayer will expect to 
 find him at the midnight hour, and thither he 
 goes that he may be ready when the officers 
 and soldiers come with Judas for their guide 
 to take Jiim. Once more through the silent 
 street and out of the Eastern gate, and across 
 the Kidron valley, beneath the shadows which 
 olive trees cast in the full moonlight, Jesus 
 
7ERUSALEM. 309 
 
 goes to his place of prayer. The betrayer 
 knew the spot, for Jesus had often been there 
 before with his disciples. To this day, in 
 spite of all intervening changes, the scene can 
 be identified with reasonable accuracy, and it 
 is the most solemn and affecting of all the 
 " holy places " in Palestine. The aged olive 
 trees, with gnarled and distorted trunks, 
 appearing as if bent and twisted with the tor- 
 ture of centuries are the most fitting monu- 
 ment, if anything be needed to mark the sa- 
 cred ground. 
 
 While waiting for the armed band to appear, 
 Jesus is again troubled in spirit, and his soul 
 is bowed down under the weight of a more 
 awful and mysterious agony than had ever 
 come upon him before. He is overcome with 
 a strange amazement, an inexplicable and 
 shuddering dread, a horror of great darkness, 
 an exceeding great sorrow embittered with 
 more than the bitterness of death. The sweat, 
 wrung out from the inward torture, falls in 
 bloody drops upon the ground. Thrice he 
 prays in the same words that the cup may 
 pass from him. And it seems a relief from 
 
310 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 something worse when the armed band ap- 
 pears, and he goes forth to give himself up. 
 His troubled countenance at once assumes so 
 much of its serene and godlike majesty, that 
 the hardened soldiers are struck to the ground 
 with awe before him. But the delay is only 
 momentary. He offers himself again, and 
 they bind him and lead him away. 
 
 It is now past midnight, and from this time 
 forward the course of events in this awful his- 
 tory runs swiftly on to the closing scene on the 
 cross. First walking painfully with bound 
 hands amid the rude and merciless mob, Jesus 
 is hurried down and up the steep path, through 
 the city gate to the house of Annas. Not for 
 a formal trial did they bring him there, but 
 only that the old father-in-law of the high 
 priest, the man whose counsel was of the high- 
 est authority in the nation, might have the 
 dreadful satisfaction of seeing Jesus of Naza- 
 reth a prisoner. Then out again into the dark, 
 narrow streets, finding their way by the uncer- 
 tain light of lanterns and torches, they hurry 
 their unresisting victim with insults and mock- 
 ery to the palace of Caiaphas. 
 
JERUSALEM. 311 
 
 Here he is questioned by the high priest, 
 testified against by false witnesses, smitten by 
 the officers, reviled by the whole assembly, 
 condemned to death by the council, and still 
 after the decision, kept exposed to every form 
 of contemptuous speech and personal abuse, till 
 the break of day. And while he is subjected 
 to such mockery from his enemies, the heart 
 of Jesus is pierced with a deeper pang, by 
 hearing his own honored and foremost disciple 
 Peter deny, with bitter oaths and blasphemy, 
 that he ever knew him. 
 
 The morning of Friday breaks, a day to be 
 recorded as the greatest of all the days of time; 
 a day to be remembered long as redeemed souls 
 remember the sacrifice which purchased for 
 them a blessed immortality. The sentence of 
 the Sanhedrim must now be confirmed, and ex- 
 ecuted by the civil power, or it will be of no 
 effect. And the enemies of Jesus hurry on 
 their dreadful work with such malignant and 
 impetuous zeal, that their prisoner, who was 
 seized in Gethsemane, without the city, at mid- 
 night, has been led -to and fro through many 
 streets, to four different palaces or tribunals, 
 
312 WALKS AXD HOMES. 
 
 has been arraigned twice before the high 
 priests, twice before the Sanhedrim, twice before 
 Pilate, once before Herod, has been once robed 
 and crowned in mockery, twice scourged, every- 
 where mocked and condemned, led out of the 
 city wall, and by nine o'clock, when the sun is 
 looking over the ridge of Olivet into the deep 
 valley of the Kidron, he is already nailed to 
 the cross. In six hours more, the most mo- 
 mentous hours in the world's history, the awful 
 tragedy is finished, and the incarnate Son of 
 God bows his head in death. 
 
 It is all one act, one mysterious and infinite 
 passion, from the agony in Gethsemane to the 
 last bitter cry upon Calvary. The betrayal, 
 the arrest, the arraignment, the false accusa- 
 tion, the mockery, the denial, the scourging, 
 the final sentence and its execution, must all 
 unite to make up the meaning of that most 
 sacred and awful mystery, the cross of Christ. 
 
 The most sorrowful procession that ever 
 moved on this earth, was that in which Jesus 
 was led out of the city to be crucified, amid 
 the wail of the daughters of Jerusalem, and the 
 mockery of the multitude that clamored for his 
 
JERUSALEM. 313 
 
 death. But we cannot describe the street along 
 which the procession passed. We do not know 
 where the cross was set up. And it is well 
 that we do not, else the spot might draw even 
 spiritual worshippers to itself, rather than to 
 him by whose sufferings it was consecrated. 
 
 What we do know of the death of Christ, is 
 of far greater importance to us than the pre- 
 cise spot or time of his crucifixion. If the 
 material cross itself were miraculously multi- 
 plied and set up as an object of reverence in 
 every Christian sanctuary, it might only de- 
 grade our conceptions of the spiritual cross, and 
 divert our trust from the living, immortal 
 Christ himself, to things that change and pass 
 away. 
 
 Nevertheless it will do us all good, frequently 
 and solemnly to review the closing scenes in 
 the Saviour's earthly life. Amid all the mate- 
 rial and worldly passions, by which we are 
 beset and tempted, we shall learn many salu- 
 tary lessons, by going back in memory, and 
 spending a thoughtful hour, in the endeavor to 
 strengthen our faith and quicken our love at 
 the foot of the cross. What then are the les- 
 
 27 
 
314 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 sons which the divine Passion, th3 infinite 
 sacrifice, the true and redemptive Cross of 
 Christ is fitted to teach? 
 
 7. THE LESSONS OF THE CROSS. 
 
 First of all we may learn that lesson which 
 is the beginning of life and peace to weary 
 souls, the lesson of penitence at the foot of the 
 cross. It was for our sins that Christ was lifted 
 up. It was to save us from shame and ever- 
 lasting contempt, that he consented to have the 
 scorn and mockery of the world heaped upon 
 him. It was the thick cloud of our transgres- 
 sions, that poured darkness upon his soul, and 
 extorted from him the cry, as of one smitten 
 and forsaken of God. He was put to grief and 
 he carried our sorrows, that he might pour the 
 oil of gladness into our stricken hearts, and 
 that God's own hand might wipe away all tears 
 from our eyes forever. He consented to be 
 numbered among transgressors, and to make 
 his soul an offering for sin, that we might be 
 justified before God, that all our wanderings 
 might be healed, and that we might be restored 
 
JERUSALEM. 315 
 
 to our Father's house and find rest and peace 
 forever. 
 
 And if anything will move our hearts to 
 penitence for our sins, it must be the great 
 sight 'of the incarnate Son of God, seen by 
 faith, lifted up on the cross, and suffering that 
 we might be saved, treated as a transgressor 
 that we might be forgiven, dying that we 
 might live and be alive for evermore. Every- 
 thing that is generous, noble and manly in 
 our nature must move us to sorrow for our 
 sins, when we see how much an infinitely gen- 
 erous and holy Saviour is willing to suffer for 
 our sake. 
 
 Sometimes it is enough to break the hard 
 heart of a wicked son when he sees an affec- 
 tionate and faithful mother mourning over his 
 misconduct, smitten with grief for the shame 
 and ruin which he is bringing on himself. 
 He knows that it is only from generous and self- 
 sacrificing love for him that his mother's heart 
 bleeds. And it makes him seem to himself 
 worse than a brute to be insensible while she is 
 so deeply moved in his behalf. The only tie 
 that has saved many a son from profligacy and 
 
316 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 destruction, has been the bond of love which 
 bound him to a mother's heart. 
 
 But the love of Jesus is infinitely more gen- 
 erous, patient and self-denying than a mother's 
 love. He has been more deeply afflicted by 
 our ingratitude and disobedience than any 
 mother ever was by the misconduct of her 
 child. He has longed and labored for our 
 eternal salvation more earnestly than any 
 human parent ever did for the welfare of an 
 only son. 
 
 As we stand and gaze by faith upon the 
 cross of Jesus, every expression of his ago- 
 nized countenance, every drop of blood flowing 
 from his many wounds, every convulsion with 
 which the torture of crucifixion shakes his 
 frame, every groan which the hiding of his 
 Father's* face extorts from his troubled soul, 
 seems to say to us, "It is for thee that these 
 pangs are borne. It is that thou mayest be 
 forgiven that I consent to have all shames and 
 crimes imputed to me. It is to blot out the 
 record of thy dark and dreadful iniquity that 
 my blood is shed. The grave shall close over 
 me with its horror of great darkness that I 
 
JERUSALEM. 317 
 
 may spoil the dominions of death and unbar 
 the gates of life for thee. I submit to all this 
 shame and agony because I have loved thee 
 with an everlasting love, and I could not rest 
 till I had brought back thy wayward and wan- 
 dering soul to God." 
 
 With such tender entreaty does the cross of 
 Christ plead with every one of us against our 
 sins, the moment we actually believe that he 
 died for us. This one appeal has produced in 
 the rude savage and the cultivated sceptic, the 
 gentleness of the lamb and the docility of the 
 child. And who would not mourn and be in 
 bitterness of soul for his sins, when he sees them 
 laid upon the holy Son of God and the meek and 
 mighty sufferer is crushed to the very grave by 
 the load? When reason fails to convince, when 
 warning and invitation have been heard in 
 vain, when chastisement and blessing have 
 been equally slighted, when the hope of hea- 
 ven no longer allures and the fear of punish- 
 ment has lost its power, then still may the 
 infinite generosity of Jesus in suffering for sin- 
 ners touch the heart and unseal the fountain 
 of tears. 
 
 27* 
 
318 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 And when we desire deeper conviction, when 
 we wish to be more penitent, and wonder that 
 we have so little sorrow for our sins, then we 
 must come nearer to the cross. We must con- < 
 sider more earnestly the shame and the glory, 
 the life and the death, the justice and the mercy 
 that so meet and harmonize in the cross, that 
 God is just and the guilty are forgiven, Jesus 
 dies and sinners live, shame is poured upon 
 the Son of the Highest and the ransomed soul 
 is crowned with eternal glory. Thus, studying 
 anew the great mystery of innocence suffering 
 for the guilty, weighing again the mighty ar- 
 gument by which divine Love convinces of 
 sin, we shall the more fervently offer the sacri- 
 fice of a broken and a contrite heart, which 
 God will not despise. And he who will not 
 take his fitting place, in humble penitence at 
 the foot of the cross, may possess all that the 
 world can give and yet be poor, he may learn 
 all that the world can teach, and yet never be- 
 come wise unto salvation. 
 
 We may learn the lesson of humility, as we 
 go back by faith and stand on the mount of the 
 great expiation. Who is this helpless victim 
 
JERUSALEM. 319 
 
 nailed in agony to the accursed tree? Nay, 
 call him not helpless. He could summon le- 
 gions of God's mighty angels to his assistance 
 with a word. He could doom all his enemies 
 to everlasting destruction in a moment. He 
 could make all the powers and terrors of the 
 universe swift ministers to execute his ven- 
 geance, while his wrath was kindled but a 
 little. 
 
 And yet he gives himself, as a lamb to the 
 slaughter. When reviled he threatens not. 
 When accused by false witnesses, he opens not 
 his mouth. On the cross itself, he prays for 
 those that nailed him there. Cruel Roman and 
 scoffing Jew unite to torture his life, and to 
 dishonor his death, and yet he gives himself 
 to be smitten- and scorned without a murmur- 
 ing word. And this unresisting, uncomplain- 
 ing victim is the Son of God. This is he whose 
 throne is from everlasting, and whose kingdom 
 shall have no end. The darkened heavens, 
 the quaking earth, and the rising dead attest 
 the divinity which man denies. 
 
 Come then, ye proud and vainglorious, whose 
 hearts are ever panting for some petty distinc- 
 
320 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 tion above your fellow-men, estimate the v^lue 
 of the highest earthly glory, while seeing the 
 Son of God rejected and despised for your 
 sake. Come, ye rich, and take account of all 
 your perishable possessions within sight of 
 that blood which was shed as a ransom for your 
 sins. Come, ye complainers and murmurers, 
 who are ever at conflict with the ways of provi- 
 dence and the will of your fellow-men ; repeat 
 the tale of your wrongs and sufferings, within 
 hearing of the voice which prays for revilers 
 and murderers, "Father, forgive them, for 
 they know not what they do." Come, ye pas- 
 sionate and contentious, whose anger kindles 
 with provocation as the flax kindles in the 
 flame ; see, with what unmurmuring meekness, 
 the Son of God endures the contradiction of 
 sinners, and learn from him to pour contempt 
 on all your pride. Come, ye poor and needy, 
 who are tempted to envy the rich and to think 
 that every earthly blessing can be bought with 
 money ; see to what a depth of destitution 
 Christ submits for your sake, and learn from 
 the cross to prize above all earthly possessions, 
 
JERUSALEM. 321 
 
 the inheritance of life which he impoverished 
 himself to purchase and to bestow on you. 
 
 And if any of us are ever to subdue the 
 pride and vanity of our hearts, if we are ever 
 to bring ourselves into familiar and holy con- 
 verse with things unseen and eternal, we must 
 learn to estimate all human interests in the 
 light which shines from the cross. We must 
 fathom the depths of the humiliation to which 
 the Son of God submitted, that he might raise 
 us up from our fallen state. We must consider 
 how great the sacrifice which he must needs 
 make in his own person, to bring back our 
 wandering souls to his Father's house. We 
 must lay open our hearts to the mighty con- 
 straint of that love, which co.uld come forth 
 from the throne of heaven, and search through 
 all the wastes of sin and misery to recover the 
 lost. While thui looking with penitence and 
 trust upon him whom our sins have pierced 
 and our sorrows have touched, we shall acquire 
 strength to overcome the world. Standing 
 fast in the great liberty wherewith the cross has 
 set us free, we shall rejoice to bring every 
 
322 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 thought and desire into willing and happy 
 captivity to the obedience of Christ. 
 
 The cross of Christ displays the character of 
 God in the most attractive light. If it were 
 not for the cross, we should not know our 
 Father in heaven. We should not dare to call 
 ourselves children of the Most High. We 
 should not dare to ascribe to the supreme and 
 eternal Judge, the relentings and compassions 
 of an earthly parent's heart. Our present life 
 would be a pitiless and hopeless orphanage, 
 and the hour of death would be the beginning 
 of endless despair. 
 
 But when we see the glory of the eternal 
 Father shining in the face of the divine and 
 co-eternal Son, we are attracted by infinite 
 grace and benignity, we rejoice in the accents 
 of paternal love. Without the cross of Christ, 
 we never could believe that the infinite One 
 pities our infirmities as a human father pities 
 his own children. We might concede, as a 
 logical necessity, the existence of one supreme 
 Creator and Governor of the universe. We 
 might discern many evidences of his wisdom 
 and power in the world around us. But we 
 
JERUSALEM. 323 
 
 should not know that we had a Father to love 
 us, with infinite and everlasting love, to pity 
 us with a parent's tender pity, to draw us to 
 himself with more than a mother's yearning 
 toward a wayward child. 
 
 It is only when we come near to the cross 
 of Jesus, that we see the infinite God manifest- 
 ing such paternal tenderness and condescension 
 towards us. Every pang, every degree of shame 
 that the holy and the divine Redeemer suffers 
 for our sake, teaches us better than a thousand 
 arguments, that God is love, that he loves us, 
 and that he has given his Son for our salvation, 
 with a father's affectionate and self- forgetting 
 generosity. This is the great revelation of the 
 cross, the holy and the mighty God, the Maker 
 of all worlds and the absolute Arbiter of all 
 destinies, revealed as a compassionate and for- 
 giving Father. 
 
 And this knowledge of God is worth infinitely 
 more to us, than all that the schools of philoso- 
 phy can teach about the Creator and Governor 
 of the universe. We see only one side of the 
 character of God, when we contemplate his 
 greatness and power, his justice and truth. 
 
324 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 His greatness might not condescend to our 
 feebleness, and then we should be desolate and 
 helpless. His power might crush us, as we 
 tread by accident or by design upon a worm in 
 the dust, and then we are ruined. His justice 
 is terrible to us, because we are sinners. His 
 truth exposes our guilt and puts us to shame 
 forever. 
 
 But when we look to the crucified One of 
 Calvary for all that we need most to know of 
 God, when we study the divine character in the 
 light of the cross, we see mercy, tenderness 
 and forgiveness blending harmoniously with 
 the awful attributes of holiness, justice and 
 power, and then we find a Father in him of 
 whom our sins made us afraid. Instead of 
 fleeing from him, we rush to his arms for pro- 
 tection. The throne that was high and terrible 
 to us in our unbelief, becomes beautiful and won- 
 drously attractive, when we behold in the midst 
 of it, One bearing the signs of having suffered 
 for us, and we hide ourselves beneath its shadow 
 when the storm of vengeance threatens to 
 sweep us away. 
 
 most glorious revelat'on of God which 
 
JERUSALEM. 325 
 
 shows us a Father, infinite and most holy, yet 
 forgiving and reconciling us to himself by the 
 cross. 0, most excellent knowledge of Jesus 
 Christ which reveals the hidden depths of sin 
 in our hearts, and yet shows us the writing of 
 the finger of God on the cloud of vengeance, 
 " Live, ye guilty and penitent souls, live for 
 I have found a ransom." The deep and angry 
 darkness which overhung our future pathway 
 is transfigured and changed to glory in the 
 light of revealed mercy. We see the shining 
 domes and the sapphire walls of the heavenly 
 city outlined upon the horizon where the sun 
 of this earthly life goes down. The infinite 
 gulf of perdition, which sin had disclosed 
 yawning across our pathway, is bridged over 
 by the cross, and redeemed souls pass in 
 safety with songs and everlasting joy. We 
 join the glorious company, and thenceforth 
 the journey of life is only a return to bur 
 Father's house. Everything great and awful 
 in the character of God puts on an aspect of 
 beauty and attraction, and we are supremely 
 drawn to him of whom in our sinful and 
 unbelieving state we were most afraid. 
 
326 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 To see God in such a character, we must 
 gather around the cross. Christ and him cru- 
 cified must become the great and commanding 
 theme of our most earnest thought and of our 
 most joyful emotion. Salvation by the blood 
 of the Lamb must be fully accepted as the 
 great inheritance of the future and the infinite 
 compensation for all the losses and afflictions 
 of this present time. The sorest chastisements 
 become precious and blessed to us the moment 
 we see from whom they come, and for what 
 purpose they are sent. Believing that Christ 
 was crucified for our sins, we ask no greater 
 pledge of our Father's love ; we cannot be told 
 more plainly that the burden of our sins and 
 sorrows has been laid upon One who is merci- 
 ful to forgive and mighty to save. We 6an 
 receive everything with gratitude from that 
 hand which was nailed to the cross, we can 
 trust everything to that love which could die 
 that we might live. 
 
 This great mystery of the cross explains all 
 other mysteries, and is itself dark to our 
 vision only from excess of light. The doubt- 
 ing dare not receive it because it means so 
 
JERUSALEM. 327 
 
 much. The philosopher will not receive it 
 because it puts all his proud theories to shame. 
 The worldling will not receive it because it 
 draws and persuades and commands with such 
 awful authority to a spiritual and a holy life. 
 But all who look to Christ for the fullest reve- 
 lation of the divine glory, find that it is the 
 blessedness of life to believe in him ; blessed 
 to follow wherever Christ leads the way ; 
 blessed to bear whatever burdens Christ 
 imposes ; blessed to die in the hope of a resur- 
 rection which shall reveal Christ as he is upon 
 the throne of heaven, coequal with the Father, 
 and clothed with the glory that he had before 
 the world was. 
 
 If, then, we would see the character of God 
 in its most complete and gracious manifesta- 
 tion; if we would find out the meaning of 
 that great and precious name, OUR FATHER; 
 if we would know the exceeding greatness of 
 the inheritance which that Father freely be- 
 stows upon his redeemed and adopted children 
 we must look in faith upon the cross and so 
 begin the study which shall be "the science 
 and the song of all eternity." We must be- 
 
328 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 lieve that Christ crucified is our living, per- 
 sonal and divine Saviour ; that all he suffered 
 was for our sake ; that his sacrificial death is 
 the great revelation which God makes of him- 
 self to the understanding and the heart ; and 
 then we shall have a higher wisdom than the 
 great masters in human philosophy ever 
 taught. We shall have acquired possessions 
 more precious than all the riches of the earth 
 can buy, a pure heart, a peaceful conscience 
 and a hope that can conquer death. 
 
 We must look to the cross to learn the 
 worth of the human soul, the true value and 
 greatness of man. The question of our own 
 immortality and of our capacity for endless 
 blessedness beyond the grave, is settled at once 
 and forever, the moment we see Jesus as he is. 
 Beholding the incarnate Son of the Highest 
 nailed in agony to the accursed tree, we see in 
 a clearer light than any reasoning can show, 
 the punishment due to transgression of the 
 divine law, the infinite evil of sin in itself, the 
 utter and endless ruin that awaits the wan- 
 derer from God. 
 
 For whom does this divine Saviour suffer 
 
JERUSALEM. 329 
 
 and die? For what purpose does he give him- 
 self to such terrible shame and agony ? Is it 
 for a child of the dust whose life begins and 
 ends with earth and time? Is it for the res- 
 cue of souls from dangers that imagination 
 creates ? Is it for the forgiveness of sins that 
 can never deserve the doom of eternal death ? 
 
 Oh ! no. This infinite and awful sacrifice of 
 Calvary could be offered only for the redemp- 
 tion of a soul that was infinitely precious. 
 This great ransom could be paid only for 
 deliverance from endless and immitigable 
 despair. The great creating Father, infinitely 
 rich as he is in all the resources of wisdom 
 and power, would not give his only begotten 
 Son to death, unless the sacrifice were attended 
 with a compensation that would fill the uni- 
 verse with praise and endure throughout all 
 ages. The Redeemer himself could not be 
 satisfied with the travail of his soul in suffer- 
 ing for sinners, unless the fruits of his conflict 
 with the powers of darkness should be glory 
 and joy forever and ever. 
 
 And such is the greatness of man, such is 
 the value of one human soul, that the almighty 
 
 28 
 
330 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 Father is satisfied with the infinite price which 
 he pays for our salvation in the death of his 
 own Son. It was for the joy set before him in 
 accomplishing so great a salvation that Christ 
 himself endured the cross, despising the shame. 
 So awful was the doom from which sinners 
 needed to be saved, so exalted and lasting the 
 glory which they might attain if redeemed, 
 that God was pleased to lay our iniquities upon 
 his holy and beloved Son, and to put him to 
 grief for our sake. And we may be sure that 
 infinite love itself would not have submitted 
 to such a sacrifice, had it not been to save us 
 from the greatest conceivable woe ; had it not 
 been to display wisdom and mercy in such ful- 
 ness as to fill the universe of holy beings with 
 gratitude and praise. 
 
 And our own greatness, the infinite price at 
 which God estimates the value of the human 
 soul, is best seen in the greatness of the ran- 
 som paid for our redemption. If we possessed 
 the treasures and revenues of empire, if we 
 could command the riches and glories of the 
 whole earth it would be infinite loss to give 
 them all in exchange for the inheritance of 
 
JERUSALEM. 331 
 
 life which is freely offered to us all through the 
 blood of the cross. There was but one being 
 in the universe great and mighty enough to 
 bestow a title to that high estate upon the 
 worthless and the guilty, and he could do it 
 only by making his own soul an offering for sin. 
 We often hear it asked how much is a man 
 worth? To answer that question we must go 
 to Calvary. In the mystery and glory of the 
 cross, we can best learn the price at which God 
 estimates the value of man, any man, the 
 poorest and lowliest on earth ; for it was for such 
 that the great sacrifice of the cross was made. 
 How much is a man worth ? I will tell you when 
 you estimate for me the height of that glory 
 from which Christ came down to die that man 
 might be saved. I will tell you when you 
 have told me how many worlds are upheld by 
 the power of him who cried in agony upon the 
 cross. " My Grod, my Grod, why hast thou for- 
 saken me?" I will tell you when you have 
 counted for me the everlasting years during 
 which Christ had reigned above all thrones and 
 powers, when he bowed his head in death, say- 
 ing, " It is finished." 
 
332 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 I will tell how much the poorest and most 
 unfriended man in all the world is worth, when 
 you have measured for me the height and 
 depth and length and breadth of the love of 
 Christ, displayed in man's redemption ; when 
 you have searched through all the deeps of the 
 prison-house of despair, and summed up all 
 the wailings of lost souls in the habitation of 
 darkness; when you have heard every voice, 
 and measured the joy of every heart that shall 
 sing the song of redemption forever and ever ; 
 when you have estimated the flood of glory 
 and gladness, that shall be poured upon the 
 universe of immortal beings, by the redeeming 
 work of Christ in the endless ages to come; 
 when you have felt and comprehended the in- 
 finite joy with which the Redeemer himself 
 rejoices over the salvation of the lost; when 
 you have done all this I will tell you how much 
 the poorest man on earth is worth. 
 
 And I should need to have all these esti- 
 mates made for me, and I should need the 
 faculty to comprehend the infinite result, before 
 I could tell how many and how strong are the 
 reasons, why any one individual man should 
 
JERUSALEM. 333 
 
 trust in Christ for the salvation of his own 
 soul. No process of reasoning, no impassioned 
 appeal, no cry of alarm can set forth the danger 
 of delay in repentance, the immensity of the 
 hazard in rejecting the offered salvation but 
 once, in so awful a light as it is seen by one 
 earnest look at the cross, one distinct and full 
 recognition of the incarnate Son of God, in the 
 crucified one of Calvary. 
 
 The cross was originally the symbol of the 
 utmost shame, and crucifixion was the reality 
 of the utmost torture that the world could in- 
 flict. Christ endured both the shame and the 
 agony, because he knew the riches of the glory 
 of the inheritance lost by sin ; he knew the 
 greatness of the ransom that must be paid for 
 the recovery of the forfeited possession. And 
 there is nothing on earth more sorrowful than 
 to see men anxious to secure trifling and per- 
 ishable possessions, yet indifferent to the loss 
 of eternal life; grateful for a momentary atten- 
 tion from a human friend, yet insensible to the 
 infinite generosity of the Son of God in dying 
 for their salvation. 
 
 The cross teaches the great lesson of trust 
 
334 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 and consecration. As I go back in imagina- 
 tion to the scene of the great sacrifice, and 
 mingle in the company that stand to gaze, me- 
 thinks I hear the voice of some one spectator, 
 more serious and attentive than the rest, say- 
 ing "Is this in very deed the Son of God? 
 And is it for my sins that he suffers and dies 
 this awful death? And does he endure all this 
 just because he desires to save me from all 
 guilt and shame and suffering, and to make me 
 blessed forever? Then the homage of my 
 heart and the service of my hands shall be his 
 forever. > All that I have is. too little to give to 
 one who so loved me as to give himself, his 
 whole, divine, eternal self for me. I cannot 
 trust such a Saviour too much, I cannot give 
 myself to his service with too deep a devotion. 
 
 ' ' Were the whole realm of nature mine, 
 
 That were a present far too small : 
 Love so amazing, so divine, 
 Demands my soul, my life, my all." 
 
 And a believing view of the cross may well 
 awaken such sentiments of trust and consecra- 
 tion in every heart. Christ gives himself our 
 ransom from sin and death. Shall we think 
 
JERUSALEM. 335 
 
 our poor unworthy selves too much lo give for 
 him? He suffers for us, shall we refuse to 
 be made happy in his service? He dies for us, 
 is it too much for us to live for him? He con- 
 sents to be crucified in shame that we may be 
 crowned with eternal glory. He becomes a 
 servant that we may be made kings unto God 
 and reign forever. And shall men choose 
 everlasting bondage to sin and death, rather 
 than be bound to Christ in bonds of love, and 
 live with him in the glorious liberty of a 
 redeemed and blessed immortality? 
 
 The cross supplies us with our one unfailing 
 source of hope, glory and joy. Taking the 
 crucifixion as the evidence and measure of 
 God's sympathy with us, there is no depth of 
 affliction, no hour of darkness and temptation 
 in which we cannot glory and rejoice. This 
 most surpassing revelation of the divine love, 
 in the incarnation and suffering of the Son of 
 God, is all that can give us peace and triumph 
 in the last and utmost trial. Take the cross 
 from Christianity and it is as if the sun were 
 taken from the day and the stars from the 
 night. Without the cross we have no Father 
 
336 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 in heaven to draw us to himself with the 
 relentings and compassions of a father's heart ; 
 no inheritance of everlasting life made sure for 
 our possession when the frail bark of our suf- 
 fering mortality is wrecked upon the shores of 
 time ; no mansion of rest, offering repose to 
 the weary soul, when the toil and the conflict of 
 this earthly life are done. Without the cross 
 there is no Friend of sinners on earth and no 
 Lamb in the midst of the throne of heaven ; 
 no welcome for the wanderer who would re- 
 turn to the path of duty while he lives, no grace 
 for the guilty in the final judgment. With- 
 out the cross, the powers of darkness are un- 
 conquerable, the punishment of sin is inevita- 
 ble, there is nothing before us but a fearful 
 looking for of judgment and fiery indignation 
 which shall devour and destroy. 
 
 The cross alone can give us hope and vic- 
 tory in the last and. utmost trial. The subtle- 
 ties of philosophy, the refinements of taste, 
 the difficulties of scepticism, the seductions of 
 pleasure, the indifference of worldliness are idle 
 mockeries to the man who has looked upon this 
 world for the last time, and who is just about 
 
JERUSALEM. 337 
 
 to know, by experience, the awful secret of 
 death and eternity. Even then, the way before 
 him shall be full of light, and he shall advance 
 with the step of a conqueror, if he can see the 
 cross of Christ uplifted on the distant heights 
 and shining through the gloom. 
 
 On a summer's day, in the hottest month of 
 the year, I was climbing the mountain wall 
 which separates the Canton Vallais from Uri 
 in Switzerland. There was no house, no human 
 form, no voice of man or beast to relieve the 
 awful desolation around me. Nothing broke 
 the deep silence, save the roar of the torrents 
 in the distance below, and the occasional rush 
 of sliding snows from the heights above. The 
 pine groves and the green pastures, where 
 shepherds kept their flocks, were far beneath. 
 In every direction the blue dome of the sky 
 rested upun icy peaks and walls of gleaming 
 snow. In every direction the prospect closed 
 with scenes of the most sublime and horrible 
 desolation. 
 
 Weary, panting for breath in the thin air, 
 heated with toil, and yet chilled with blasts 
 that swept from the winter's eternal throne, I 
 
 29 
 
338 WALKS AND HOMES. 
 
 paused many times to rest from exhaustion, 
 many times looked back longingly towards the 
 green valley, where the "arrowy Rhone" rushed 
 forth a strong river from beneath th^ melting- 
 glacier ; many times I gazed upward to the cold 
 height, which seemed to lift itself away into 
 the clouds as fast as I latored up the steep, 
 while every fibre of my weary frame protested 
 that I could climb no higher. Many times I 
 thought how fearful a thing it would be to die 
 there alone ; many times feared that it had been 
 an act of rashness to attempt the ascent with- 
 out a guide or a friend, till at last I saw before 
 me, and but a few steps further on, a CROSS, a 
 high firm broad cross, standing amid desolate 
 rocks and wintry snows ; and I knew that when 
 I reached that cross, there would be no other 
 height to climb, and beyond was a descending 
 and easy path, to beautiful vales and laughing 
 streams and the cheerful homes of men. 
 
 At the sight of that cross, standing amid 
 clouds and snow to mark the utmost height of 
 the pass, I felt something of the enthusiasm 
 with which the Romish devotee clasps and 
 kisses the symbol of the world's redemption. 
 
JERUSALEM. 339 
 
 And as I passed leisurely and joyously on, in 
 my subsequent journey, I thought many times 
 to myself, oh ! how hard it is to climb the cold 
 and weary mountains of separation which sin 
 and unbelief have raised up between us and 
 the blessed cross of Christ. How determined 
 and persevering the exertion that we must put 
 forth, if we would ever reach it. And when 
 we look back, how inviting the beautiful vales 
 of ease and self-indulgence appear in the dis- 
 tance. But once reach the cross and the great 
 joy begins, the great conflict ends. At the 
 foot of the cross, the penitent and believing 
 soul has reached the highest elevation, alcove all 
 the foes of his peace, and he thence looks forth 
 a king and a conqueror, upon a subject world. 
 The devotees of earthly pleasure have no joy, 
 the sons of fame no triumph, to be compared 
 with that which fills the weary and burdened 
 sinner's heart, when he looks for the first time 
 in faith upon the cross of Christ. 
 
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